Narcissa's Wake-up Call(Malfoid)

[Xahn]

Remus is on the scene... is he here to help or fuck up? one can never tell with him ...

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Remus is on the scene... is he here to help or fuck up? one can never tell with him ...

Click to shrink...

Come on. This is me writing here.

 

[Xahn]

Come on. This is me writing here.

Click to shrink...

yes, i expect you to have him fully in character.
jokes aside though hes gonna put things together in seconds isnt he? pettigrew is fucked

 

[NonsensicalRants]

yes, i expect you to have him fully in character.
jokes aside though hes gonna put things together in seconds isnt he? pettigrew is fucked

Click to shrink...

You do not comprehend how fucked Pettigrew is yet. But you will in time.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

Okay, you know that Sirius is going to have to find Lyra some form of magical canine to make up for when her dog turns into a human. She is not going to be happy and probably rather depressed.

 

[Puga]

Tftc

 

[Sir Borks-a-Lot]

Oh this can go so many ways, and just about all of them would be so entertaining! Gib moar!

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 6:​

---

Professor Lupin stood nearly stock still in his staring contest with Scarfoot for several more moments before Lyra started to worry.

"Professor Lupin? Is everything alright?"

Lyra's question seemed to snap the professor out of his stupor. He blinked several times, looking between her and Scarfoot.

"Miss Malfoy?"

"Is there something wrong with my dog, sir?"

"Your dog? You own this dog?" Lupin clarified.

"Yes, sir. His name is Scarfoot."

"Scarfoot," Lupin murmured, seeming to try and hide a smirk but he wiped it away in favor of his more serious composure.

He went back to staring at the enormous black dog, who stood perfectly still beside Lyra. Was this a werewolf and dog thing? Sure it took her the whole first semester to figure out why Lupin disappeared every month, but a dog ought to smell it on him right away.

But no, Scarfoot was showing deference, more than he'd ever shown her at least. He crouched low with his tail between his legs. And were those puppydog eyes? When did he get those?

The staring contest was interrupted when Lupin's attention was drawn by the rat Ron had previously dropped, which was now scurrying away. Lupin watched it for a second before turning his attention back to Scarfoot. His face held the most confused, questioning expression she had ever seen. He glanced between Scarfoot and the rat several times, before turning his attention to the two students beside it.

She could tell he was thinking his words over carefully.

"Miss Malfoy, I need to examine your dog."

Lyra felt a sudden pang of panic and quashed it. No use imagining that her professor was going to take her dog away from her for good.

"Examine him? What for?"

"I have a suspicion that he may be suffering from a magical condition."

"What sort of condition?"

"I don't want to tell you because it will alarm you, and I'm probably wrong. It's only a hunch, but I must insist on checking to see if his physical condition is because of… well, a curse."

"He's been doing much better, Professor! He was terribly thin when I found him, but I've been feeding him properly, and he's already putting on weight."

"I'm pleased to hear that. Nevertheless, I must insist on examining him."

Lyra glanced down at Scarfoot. He was still staring at Lupin, his ears pressed backwards.

"Couldn't I bring him by after classes? I don't like leaving him with strangers."

"I'm afraid this cannot wait."

"But, Professor—"

"Miss Malfoy, you and Mr. Weasley have another class to attend, do you not?"

Lyra looked toward Ron, who had been watching the exchange with considerable confusion.

"Yes, sir," Ron admitted.

"Then I suggest you both go. I'll take Scarfoot into my office and examine him there. You can come get him after your next class."

Lyra hesitated.

"But he's my dog, Professor. Surely I ought to know what's wrong with him before you take him away."

Lupin's expression hardened.

"Miss Malfoy, I have already explained that I don't know what's wrong with him. That is precisely why I need to examine him. This is for his and your safety. This is very serious."

Lyra opened her mouth to protest again.

"Enough." His voice rose sharply. "I am giving you a direct instruction. Unless you would prefer to spend your entire weekend in detention, you will leave Scarfoot with me and proceed to your next class. Quickly. Is that understood?"

Lyra stared at him.

She had never heard Professor Lupin speak to a student like that. He was ordinarily so patient that even the most disruptive students seemed incapable of provoking him.

"Yes, sir," she answered quietly.

"Good. Now, off you go. Both of you."

Lyra reluctantly turned toward Scarfoot and knelt beside him and she noticed Lupin flinch for his wand again.

"Be good, alright? I'll come back for you as soon as I can."

She reached out to scratch him behind the ears, but Scarfoot stepped away from her and walked directly toward Lupin.

Lyra felt her face melt into a vision of horror at her dog choosing to go with somebody else instead of her. The entire motion felt like a rejection.

"Well, there we are," he said. "It seems Scarfoot is willing to cooperate."

Lyra rose to her feet, still feeling distinctly uneasy.

"Please take good care of him, Professor."

"I shall, Miss Malfoy. Now hurry along," he said, though his eyes did not leave Scarfoot. "Come by after lunch, I should be done by then."

Ron was already moving down the corridor. Lyra followed, glancing back over her shoulder.

Lupin stood beside the classroom door, watching Scarfoot enter ahead of him, before following him inside and closing the door behind him.

---

On Monday, Harry encountered Lyra's Grim in the library.

He was searching the shelves for a book on medieval witch hunts – which Binns STILL somehow had them studying – when something wet pressed against the back of his hand. Harry jerked away and nearly knocked an entire row of books onto the floor.

Scarfoot stood beside him, wagging his tail and panting heavily in a way that sounded like laughter.

He heard a shush from the stacks and realized he must have yelped in a very unmanly manner on the way down.

"What are you doing here?" Harry hiss-whispered.

The dog responded by pushing his enormous head beneath Harry's hand, demanding to be petted. Harry recoiled and scurried to his feet, and away from the dog.

"You're not supposed to be in here."

Scarfoot seemed unconcerned. He sniffed at Harry's robes, circled him twice, and settled across his feet.

Harry tried to step away, but the dog refused to budge. He was surprisingly heavy for such a thin animal.

"Move, you great lump."

Scarfoot rolled onto his back, exposing his stomach.

Harry stared at him.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

He crouched and gave the dog a reluctant scratch. Scarfoot closed his eyes in apparent bliss, stretching his legs until he occupied most of the aisle.

Harry had just begun to enjoy himself when Madam Pince appeared around the corner.

"Potter! What is that animal doing in my library?"

"He's not mine!"

"Then remove him!"

Harry grabbed Scarfoot by the collar and attempted to haul him upright. The dog went limp, leaving Harry struggling with several stone of uncooperative canine.

"Come on!" Harry hissed.

Scarfoot wagged his tail against the floor in seeming joy at the trouble he was causing.

Madam Pince pointed toward the doors.

"Out! Both of you!"

Harry eventually managed to coax Scarfoot onto his feet, only for the dog to seize the hem of his robes and tug him toward the exit.

"Alright, I'm coming!"

As soon as they emerged into the hallway, Harry squirmed out of his robe and took off in a sprint. Scarfoot barked and ran after him.

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled, nailing the tedious animal with the spell.

The dog continued to try and chase him in slow motion, but Harry took the opportunity to get away. Naturally Scarfoot found him in his next class, carrying his robe to return to him.

---

On Tuesday, Scarfoot stole Harry's Monster Book of Monsters.

Harry was halfway down the hill toward Hagrid's hut when the dog emerged from behind a tree, snatched the book from beneath his arm, and raced away.

"HEY! GIVE THAT BACK!"

Scarfoot stopped twenty yards away and looked over his shoulder, trotting in a way much more like a proud stallion than an emaciated mutt.

Harry ran toward him. The dog waited until he was almost within reach before bounding away again.

For the next several minutes, Harry chased him around the grounds while the rest of the class watched in amusement.

"He's playing with you!" Hermione called.

"I NOTICED!"

Scarfoot finally stopped beside a large rock and dropped the book onto the grass. Harry approached carefully, expecting another trick.

"Stay."

The dog sat.

"Good. Now leave it."

Harry bent to retrieve his textbook.

Scarfoot seized it again.

"Oh, you little—"

Harry lunged, caught the book by its cover, and pulled. Scarfoot resisted just long enough to make Harry put his weight into the struggle before abruptly releasing it.

Harry landed on his backside.

The Monster Book sprang open and began snapping at his fingers.

Scarfoot barked delightedly.

Harry wrestled the book shut and glared at him.

By the time Harry reached Hagrid's hut, his robes were covered in grass stains and Hermione was still laughing.

Lyra looked at him questioningly and Harry shook his head. He was glad she hadn't been there to see any of that. He didn't know why.

Lyra shooed Scarfoot away

"You can't be in this class. Familiars aren't allowed for obvious reasons. Go back to the castle, I'll see you next period."

To Harry's surprise, the dog obeyed and ran back up to the castle.

---

On Wednesday night, Harry discovered that his Invisibility Cloak was useless against Scarfoot.

He had missed dinner after falling asleep over his homework and decided to sneak down to the kitchens for something to eat. Thankfully Fred and George told him where it was and how to open it. He was halfway through the third-floor corridor reminiscing on the now normal classroom that once housed fluffy. It was then that he heard claws clicking against the stone behind him.

Harry turned.

Scarfoot stood at the far end of the passage, staring directly at him.

Harry looked down at his invisible body.

"How can you see me?" he asked stupidly, before realizing it could probably just smell and hear him.

The dog trotted toward him, sniffed the air, and seized the dangling edge of the cloak.

"Hey! Let go!"

Scarfoot pulled.

Harry grabbed the fabric with both hands, which the dog took as an invitation to play tug-of-war. After several seconds of struggling, Scarfoot gave a tremendous yank and pulled the cloak clean off him.

"SCARFOOT!" he hiss-yelled, just like in the library on Monday.

The dog bounded away with the silvery fabric trailing from his mouth.

Harry chased him through two corridors and down a staircase, desperately trying to keep his footsteps quiet. Every time he came close, Scarfoot accelerated just enough to stay out of reach.

"Come back here, you great hairy idiot!" he grumbled, careful not to be too loud.

Scarfoot stopped at the next corner and barked.

"SHHH!"

A door opened somewhere above them.

"Who's there?" Filch called.

Harry froze. Scarfoot did too.

The dog looked toward the approaching footsteps, then trotted back and deposited the cloak at Harry's feet.

"Oh, now you give it back!"

Harry snatched it up and disappeared beneath it.

Scarfoot led him down another staircase before scratching at a brick on the wall. When Harry pressed it the wall opened to a deserted passage, eventually stopping outside the kitchens.

Harry stared at the painting of the fruit bowl.

"You knew where I was going?"

Scarfoot sat and wagged his tail.

Harry shook his head and tickled the pear.

When he emerged fifteen minutes later with a sandwich and freshly fried, medium-rare steak, the dog was still waiting for him. Just like he'd hoped.

"Here," Harry whispered, tossing him the steak. "Peace offering. Go away."

The dog accepted the meat but instead of going away he lay down and feasted on it. This did give Harry the opportunity to escape.

---

On Thursday, Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower and discovered Scarfoot sleeping in front of the fireplace.

Several younger students were gathered around him. One was brushing his coat while another scratched his stomach. Crookshanks lay curled against his side, apparently enjoying the warmth.

Harry stopped in the middle of the common room and stared at the peculiar scene.

"How did he get in here?"

"We let him in," Denni answered from beside his yearmates.

Harry looked around the room. Nobody else seemed remotely concerned that an enormous black dog had somehow gained access to their common room.

"Does Malfoy even know he's here?"

"Dunno," said a girl whose name he never bothered to learn.

Scarfoot opened his eyes.

The moment he spotted Harry, he scrambled to his feet and bounded across the room, scattering the students around him.

Harry barely had time to brace himself before the dog planted both front paws against his chest and began licking his face.

"Ugh! Get off!"

Scarfoot continued enthusiastically.

"Alright! Alright!"

Harry started laughing as he tried to fend him off. The dog finally dropped onto all fours, wagging his tail so violently that his entire backside swayed.

"You're absolutely ridiculous."

Harry knelt and scratched him behind both ears.

Scarfoot pressed his enormous head against Harry's chest, nearly knocking him backward.

"Steady on!"

The dog gave a happy whine.

Harry wrapped an arm around his neck and continued scratching him.

He didn't know why the dog was so obsessed with him, but he was starting to appreciate it.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" Harry murmured. "Even if you are a complete menace. I hope you're this bad with Malfoy too."

Harry found a seat and started on his homework. Scarfoot remained beside him for the homework session with his head on Harry's feet. Harry would occasionally reach down to scratch his ears and other students would occasionally come by to deliver head pats of their own.

When the bell chimed for eight, Scarfoot got up and went to the portrait exit and scratched at the bottom to be let out.

"Stand aside, noble beast! I shall grant thee passage!" Sir Cadogan declared, swinging his portrait open to let the dog out.

---

On Friday, Harry went the entire morning without seeing Scarfoot.

At first, he considered it a welcome change. He managed to reach breakfast without being ambushed, attended his first class without having his robes stolen, and even made it through the next without a gigantic black dog appearing from nowhere to torment him.

By midmorning, however, he had begun looking over his shoulder.

Every time he rounded a corner, he half expected Scarfoot to come bounding toward him. Whenever he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to check whether they belonged to a dog. At one point, he caught himself watching a classroom door for several minutes, wondering if Scarfoot would somehow manage to open it after growing hands.

By lunchtime, Harry was oddly disappointed.

He had grown accustomed to the ridiculous animal's company. Even the constant harassment had become something to look forward to, although Harry would have denied that if anyone asked.

Friday was a short day for him, and Harry decided to take his lunch outside rather than eat in the Great Hall. He collected a sandwich and a few other things from the kitchens, wrapped them in a handkerchief, and headed down toward the lake.

The weather was chilly but pleasant enough, and he knew a quiet spot along the shore where he could eat without being disturbed. Unfortunately, someone had beaten him to it.

Lyra Malfoy sat beneath a tree near the water, her knees drawn up against her chest. Harry considered turning around and finding somewhere else to eat, but something about the way she was sitting made him hesitate.

Then she wiped her face with her sleeve.

Harry stopped.

Was she crying?

He stood there for several seconds, uncertain what to do. He had never seen Malfoy cry before, and he suspected she would be furious if she knew he'd caught her doing it.

He could probably leave without her noticing.

But this was a girl crying, and he was a chivalrous Gryffindor.

"Malfoy?"

Her head snapped toward him.

"Potter!"

She hurriedly wiped her cheeks and glared at him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. I was just going to eat lunch."

"Then go eat it somewhere else!"

Harry glanced at the lake, then back at her. Her eyes were red, and fresh tears were already gathering despite her obvious determination to stop them.

He reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief.

"Here."

Lyra stared at it.

"What?"

"For your face."

"I know what a handkerchief is for, Potter! I just never took you for a gentleman who carried one."

She snatched it from him and dabbed at her eyes.

Harry decided against mentioning that she was completely right about him never carrying one around and that he only had this one because it had been wrapped around his sandwich. Or that he'd eaten it while still in said hankerchief and he'd wiped his face with it afterwards. It would ruin the gesture.

He stood awkwardly beside her while she composed herself.

"Did somebody do something?" he asked eventually.

"No."

"Right."

Lyra blew her nose and Harry dutifully turned away to give her the privacy to do so and still feel like a lady. For a moment, he considered leaving her alone. Then he remembered that he hadn't seen Scarfoot all morning.

"Where's your dog, anyway?"

Lyra's expression crumpled.

"Oh, brilliant!" she snapped, wiping at her eyes again. "Thank you very much for reminding me!"

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"Professor Lupin took him!"

Harry scowled at her. Well, at Lupin but he wasn't there right now to get a glare from him.

"He what?"

"He took Scarfoot this morning! Said he needed to examine him for some sort of curse, and he wouldn't even let me stay!"

"Why would Scarfoot be cursed?"

"I don't know! He wouldn't tell me!"

Harry frowned.

"That's ridiculous!"

"That's what I said!"

Harry looked toward the castle. Professor Lupin had always seemed reasonable to him, but keeping someone's familiar without explaining why was going too far.

"He can't just take your dog."

"Apparently he can!"

"Well, he shouldn't!"

Lyra looked at him, seemingly surprised to find him agreeing with her.

Harry sat down beside her, setting his lunch on the grass.

"Scarfoot's been following me around all week," he admitted.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. Half the school has been telling me about it. Accusing me of siccing him on you."

Harry felt scandalized that he himself hadn't thought to accuse her of that.

"Right."

"He seems to like you."

"He has a funny way of showing it."

Lyra gave a small, reluctant snort.

Harry smiled.

"He stole my textbook on Tuesday."

"I heard from Granger."

"And my Invisibility Cloak on Wednesday."

That earned him a proper look.

"He did what?"

"Ran off with it. Nearly got me caught by Filch."

Lyra shook her head, but he could tell she was trying to hide a smirk.

Before either of them could say anything else, a flutter of wings interrupted them as small brown owl landed directly in front of Harry. It held out one leg, to which a folded note had been attached.

Harry untied the parchment.

"Who's that from?" Lyra asked.

"Professor Lupin."

Her expression darkened.

Harry unfolded the letter and read.

Dear Harry,

Would you please come to my classroom as soon as you receive this? There is something I would like to discuss with you.

Oh, and do bring Miss Malfoy with you, since you're sitting right next to her.

Yes, I can see you both from my office window.

Ronald is already here.

Professor R. J. Lupin
​

Harry handed the parchment to Lyra and looked toward the castle.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was on the third floor, and after a moment of searching, he thought he could make out a figure standing beside an open window. It was definitely waving at them.

"You're joking." Lyra groaned before jumping to her feet and brushing her bottom clear of snow and dirt.

"Well, let's go get my dog back."

---

Notes:

Apologies for the chronological backtracking in this chapter. Jumping from Friday back to the preceding Monday to show Harry's POV of the week leading up to the opening scene is really not my style.

As you can probably tell, yes, that was supposed to be in the previous chapter.

Thanks as always to Seru for commissioning this chapter, to my patrons, and to fans like you.

 

[BlueCladOne]

Bonding through shared outrage

 

[FoxGirlFan]

Can i just say that this is my favorite HP fic ever? You give details and fill in the world in ways i never knew i wanted. Its brilliant.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Can i just say that this is my favorite HP fic ever? You give details and fill in the world in ways i never knew i wanted. Its brilliant.

Click to shrink...

You should read my other stuff. If you prefer comedy and romance go with "The Marauding champions". If you want action and Horror with even superior worldbuilding? Go with my masterpiece, "Harry Potter and the Blood-Soaked succession"

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 7:​

---

Harry knocked on the door to Professor Lupin's office, and received an invitation to enter.

Ron was already there, seated in one of the chairs before Lupin's desk. He looked as bewildered as Harry felt. Scarfoot, meanwhile, was stretched out beside the professor's chair, looking perfectly content with himself.

The dog raised his head when Harry and Lyra entered. His tail thumped against the floor in excitement, though over which of them he couldn't tell.

"Scarfoot!"

Lyra hurried past Harry and dropped to her knees beside the dog. Scarfoot rolled onto his side to accommodate her inspection, accepting her attention with enthusiasm.

"Is he alright?" she demanded, looking up at Lupin. "Have you found anything wrong with him?"

"Nothing that requires immediate treatment," Lupin assured her. "Although I would like to discuss his condition with you."

"Then why did you take him away? You said he might have been cursed!"

"And I had good reason to suspect it." Lupin folded his hands on his desk. "There is a particularly unpleasant curse used by certain irresponsible pet owners to suppress an animal's appetite. Some use it to force an overweight animal to lose weight."

"That's horrible!" Lyra exclaimed.

"Scarfoot was terribly thin when I found him," Lyra said, running a hand along the dog's ribs. "But he's been eating perfectly well since then."

"Yes, and I found no evidence of such a curse during my examination. I now suspect something worse." Lupin paused. "Severus tells me that you found him near the Shrieking Shack?"

Lyra nodded.

"And do you know how long he had been wandering around Hogsmeade?"

"No. He might have been there for months."

"Precisely. And what has been stationed around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts since the beginning of the school year?"

Harry understood before Lyra answered.

"The Dementors," he said.

"Quite right. Prolonged exposure to Dementors can cause profound despair, loss of appetite, and a general neglect of personal care. People sometimes stop eating, bathing, or attending to even their most basic needs. I see no reason to assume animals are entirely immune to these effects."

Harry remembered the cold, the darkness, and the terrible feeling that he would never be happy again. He could easily imagine someone forgetting to eat if they felt that way all the time.

"So the Dementors made him starve himself?" Lyra asked.

"Possibly. It would explain both his malnutrition and the state of his coat when you found him. Unfortunately, I cannot be certain."

"Can't you give him something? You always give Harry chocolate after the Dementors get near him." Ron asked.

"Chocolate is poisonous to dogs, Mister Weasley. And I'm afraid I don't know whether anyone has conducted research into treating Dementor exposure in animals, much less developed a reliable remedy for dogs in particular."

Lyra looked dissatisfied with that answer.

"The encouraging news," Lupin continued, "is that I can tell Padfoot has been recovering under your care. His appetite has returned, his condition is improving, and he seems remarkably cheerful. I recommend continuing whatever you've been doing."

"Er, it's Scarfoot," Lyra corrected.

"Hm? Isn't that what I said?"

"You said Padfoot."

"Oh! My apologies. Scarfoot it is then. You have done an excellent job of helping Scarfoot recover. Keep doing what you've been doing. With one important precaution. Severely malnourished animals must not be overfed. Giving them too much food too quickly can cause complications, even when the animal seems eager to eat."

"Oh, Gregory already told me about that," Lyra said brightly. "His family breeds guard dogs, and he warned me that starving animals need small meals at first. We've been increasing Scarfoot's portions a little at a time. Though I still only feed him light proteins. Fish, eggs and chicken."

Harry felt his poker face slam into place to hide the deluge of guilt he suddenly felt. It was just a steak. Surely that couldn't have caused any harm, right?

He suddenly found the contents of Lupin's bookshelf fascinating.

"Excellent. I'm pleased to hear that. I believe that addresses your concerns about Scarfoot's health, Miss Malfoy. There is, however, another matter I wanted to discuss."

He turned toward Harry.

"And that, Harry, is why I've asked you to join us."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, there was another knock at the door.

"Come in!"

Hermione entered with Crookshanks in her arms. The enormous ginger cat looked thoroughly bored with the proceedings, though he perked up at the sight of Scarfoot.

"Professor? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Thank you for coming, and for bringing your feline friend. Please, take a seat."

Hermione settled into the chair beside Ron, depositing Crookshanks on her lap. The cat climbed down and wandered over to Scarfoot, who greeted him with a wag of his tail. There, the cat snuggled up with the dog. It was a queer sight.

"Now, Harry," Lupin began, "Professor McGonagall mentioned something interesting to me recently. Something concerning Professor Trelawney."

Harry groaned.

"She's not predicting my death again, is she?"

"Again?" Lyra asked.

"She's been predicting Harry's death since our first Divination lesson," Ron explained. "It's practically all she does."

"She's a complete fraud," Hermione declared.

"That's a little uncharitable, Miss Granger," Lupin replied mildly. "Besides, I am more interested in the Grim that Minerva mentioned." Lupin leaned back in his chair. "I understand Professor Trelawney saw the shape of a large black dog in Harry's tea leaves."

"Yeah, and she decided it meant I was going to die," Harry said.

"An interpretation which may have been mistaken," Lupin agreed. "But that doesn't necessarily mean she was wrong about what she saw."

Hermione looked scandalized.

"Professor, surely you don't believe her?"

"I believe Divination is a legitimate branch of magic, Miss Granger, even if its practitioners are sometimes prone to dramatic interpretations. Seeing something and understanding its significance are two different matters."

"But the Grim is an omen of death," Ron pointed out.

"The Grim is traditionally represented by a large black dog," Lupin corrected. "If a Seer divines the appearance of a black dog, there's no reason it must symbolize death. It could simply mean that a black dog will become important to the subject of the prediction."

He indicated Scarfoot.

Harry stared at him.

"But that would mean Trelawney actually predicted something!"

"Even a broken clock is right twice a day," Hermione muttered.

Ron, however, was looking increasingly amused.

"Hang on, Harry. Didn't I tell you exactly that after our first Divination lesson?"

"Tell me what?"

"That the Grim might just mean you were going to meet a big black dog! I was joking, but still!" Ron explained. "And you told me you had encountered one at Caramel Crescent."

"Magnolia Crescent," Harry corrected.

Lupin straightened in his seat.

"Harry, are you saying you encountered this dog in Little Whinging before term even started?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well, I can't be certain it was Scarfoot," Harry admitted. "It was dark, and I only saw him for a moment. But he was enormous, completely black, and looked just like him. I think it was the same dog."

Lupin glanced at Scarfoot, who was now lying with his head between his paws while Crookshanks cleaned one enormous ginger paw beside him.

"Interesting," Lupin murmured.

"Why?" Lyra asked.

"Because it suggests Professor Trelawney's prediction might have been more significant than she realized. A black dog appears in Harry's life before the school year begins, is subsequently seen around Hogwarts, and eventually becomes the familiar of one of his classmates."

"That's a coincidence," Hermione insisted.

"No, that is a long series of coincidences. From what I hear you three have learned to pay close attention to in your time at Hogwarts thus far. Good, they are often worth examining. Especially when they involve magic."

Harry looked at Scarfoot, who appeared blissfully unconcerned by the possibility that he was the subject of a prophecy.

"So you think Scarfoot's important somehow?" he asked.

"I think there's a possibility that he is," Lupin replied. "And I'd like to understand why he seems so interested in you."

Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've encountered him on several occasions now, haven't you? And from what I understand, some of those encounters occurred when you were entirely alone."

"Yes," Harry admitted.

Lupin folded his hands on the desk.

"Then tell me, Harry. Has this dog ever actually attempted to harm you?"

Harry considered the question.

"Well, no," he admitted. "He's never actually tried to hurt me. Although our first few encounters did almost get me killed."

Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Really?"

"The first time I saw him was on Magnolia Crescent. I was looking at him when the Knight Bus appeared out of nowhere. Nearly ran me over. Then there was the Quidditch match," Harry explained. "I saw him in the stands, thought he was the Grim, and fell off my broom."

"You fell because of the Dementors!" Hermione protested.

"Yeah, well, I was distracted before they showed up. And then there was Ron's little joke," Harry added darkly.

Ron winced.

"What joke?" Lupin asked.

"Ron borrowed my Invisibility Cloak without asking and brought Scarfoot into the Quidditch stands. I saw him, thought the Grim had come for me again, and fell down the bleachers. It didn't help that he decloaked two inches from my face."

"I've already apologized for that!" Ron protested.

"Not enough."

"Twice!"

"Still not enough."

"Gentlemen," Lupin interrupted, although he appeared to be suppressing a smile. "Am I correct in understanding that on none of these occasions did Scarfoot actually attack you?"

Harry frowned.

"No. I guess not."

"And since then?"

"Well, Monday he chased me through the library. Madam Pince threw us both out, and I lost my robe trying to get away. He brought it back to me afterward."

"That's sweet," Lyra said.

"He was trying to bite it off me!"

"Did he bite you?"

"No."

"Then he was playing," she said smugly.

Harry decided not to mention the Impediment Jinx.

"Tuesday he stole my Monster Book of Monsters on the way to Hagrid's lesson. We ended up playing tug-of-war over it."

"Did he damage it?" Hermione asked.

"No. The book almost damaged him, though."

Ron snorted.

"Wednesday he found me wandering around the castle. Took my cloak, made me chase him for a while, then gave it back."

Harry left out that he had been wandering around the castle late at night, and the steak. Definitely shouldn't mention the steak.

"And yesterday?" Lupin prompted.

"He turned up in Gryffindor Tower. Some first-years let him in. He spent most of the evening lying on my feet while I did homework."

"He likes you," Lyra said, sounding pleased.

"He's got a funny way of showing it."

"Harry," Lupin said, "consider what you've just told me. This dog has repeatedly sought you out, sometimes when you were completely alone. He's followed you, chased you, stolen your possessions, and even found his way into your common room. Yet despite all those opportunities, he's never harmed you."

Harry looked down at Scarfoot.

"I suppose that is a bit odd."

"Especially," Lupin continued, "when we remember that Sirius Black escaped Azkaban this summer and is believed to be searching for you."

The room grew quiet.

"What's Black got to do with my dog?" Lyra demanded.

"Perhaps nothing. But consider the possibility that someone wanted to keep track of Harry without approaching him personally."

"You think Black put a tracking charm on Scarfoot?" Hermione asked.

"A tracking curse, Miss Granger. There's an important distinction. A tracking charm allows someone to locate a person or object. A tracking curse can compel an animal, or person, to pursue a particular target, even against its natural instincts."

"Like making him follow Harry around?" Ron asked.

"Exactly. Such magic can override an animal's ordinary needs. It may continue searching when it ought to be sleeping, eating, or seeking shelter. In extreme cases, the animal can become dangerously malnourished."

Lyra looked horrified.

"You think Sirius Black did that to Scarfoot?"

"It's one possibility. And it would provide another explanation for his condition when you found him."

"But you examined him!" she protested. "You said he wasn't cursed!"

" Unfortunately, a tracking curse of this sort would have worn off by now. There would be no reliable way to establish whether one had been used months ago. The animal, however, might retain some of the behaviors it developed while under its influence."

"So Scarfoot could still be looking for Harry even though nobody's making him?" Hermione asked.

"Precisely."

Harry glanced at the enormous black dog, who was now allowing Crookshanks to clean the inside of his ear.

"But why would Black use a dog?"

"An ordinary animal attracts less attention than a wanted wizard," Lupin explained. "And a dog can go places a human cannot without arousing suspicion. They also have excellent tracking abilities. Owls are regularly checked for tracking charms or curses at owl stations, especially ones belonging to celebrities. Dogs? Not so much. But I must emphasize that this is only a theory. It assumes that the dog Harry encountered in Little Whinging was Scarfoot, that he somehow followed Harry all the way to Hogwarts, and that someone placed a curse upon him in the first place. We have no proof of any of those things."

"Then why bring it up?" Harry asked.

"Because I think it's important that you understand the possibilities. A Death Eater is searching for you, Harry, and an animal with an unusual interest in you has appeared under suspicious circumstances. It would be irresponsible of me not to consider a connection."

Lyra stroked Scarfoot's head protectively.

"But you don't think he's dangerous?"

Lupin looked at the dog for a long moment.

"No," he said at last.

Harry noticed Lyra deflate as her anxiety about losing her new dog was put to rest. She caught herself and adopted her usual pureblood composure. Back straight, chest out, nose up.

"Professor?" Hermione asked. "Why did you ask me to come? And why did you want me to bring Crookshanks?"

"Yeah," Ron added. "While we're on the topic, why am I here?"

"Both excellent questions," Lupin replied. "You see, I've been investigating several peculiar things about Scarfoot, and both of you happen to be involved in them."

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, I understand Scarfoot has developed a habit of catching rats and bringing them to you?"

"One rat," Ron corrected.

"The rest he's been bringing to me," Lyra added.

"Ah, my mistake. Still, an unusual habit for a dog. Yet another mystery surrounding this animal. You see why I'm so interested? I'm shocked you all aren't. But we'll come back to that. First, I'd like to discuss your cat, Miss Granger."

Hermione glanced down at Crookshanks, who was still enthusiastically grooming Scarfoot.

"What about him?"

"During one of my nighttime patrols, I happened upon these two together. They appeared to be enjoying each other's company, much as they are now."

"They're friends," Hermione said, shrugging. "Crookshanks has always liked Scarfoot," Hermione explained. "They've been spending time together all semester."

"But I only adopted Scarfoot recently?" Lyra said.

"Yeah, but Scarfoot has been in Hogsmeade since at least the first trip. I've seen them spending time together around the school grounds all year."

Harry noticed Lupin making note of that on a piece of parchment on his desk. He had to admit, it was noteworthy. And now that all of this was laid out, Harry had to admit. There was indeed a mystery afoot. And this dog was at the center of it.

"He likes that dog more than he likes people," Ron muttered.

"Which brings me to something I'd like to investigate. Miss Granger, would you mind if I examined Crookshanks?"

"Examine him? You don't think he's been cursed too, do you?"

"Not at all. I merely wish to satisfy my curiosity."

Hermione hesitated, then nodded.

"Crookshanks, come here."

The cat ignored her.

Lupin smiled and rose from his chair. Rather than disturbing the two animals, he approached them and drew his wand. He made a complicated motion as if he were trying to write something in the air. Harry was uncomfortably reminded of Tom Riddle's trick in the Chamber of Secrets.

A thin stream of blue light emerged from its tip, washing over Crookshanks from his whiskers to the end of his bushy tail. The cat paused his grooming long enough to give Lupin an irritated look.

The professor studied the light for several seconds before his eyebrows rose.

"Well, well. That's interesting."

"What is?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Miss Granger, did you know your cat is part Kneazle?"

Hermione blinked.

"He is?" she asked.

"What's a Kneesol?" Harry asked at the exact same time.

"Kneazle," Lupin repeated. "A magical feline creature. They're exceptionally intelligent and possess a remarkable ability to recognize suspicious or untrustworthy individuals."

Hermione entered bookworm mode.

"Indeed. Kneazles can form strong attachments to people they trust, and they're known to react aggressively toward those they consider dishonest or dangerous. It's a form of magical sensitivity similar to the principle behind Sneakoscopes." she recited as if reading from a textbook.

Lyra rolled her eyes and gave Harry a look as if to ask "How do you deal with her?" He shrugged at her as if to say "It's easier than you might thin.." and returned to the conversation.

"My Sneakoscope!" Ron exclaimed. "I got one in Egypt! It's been going off all year!"

"Has it?" Lupin asked.

"Constantly. Even when nothing's happening. Bill reckons they're rubbish. Although it's been quiet since christmas."

"Not necessarily," Lupin replied. "Sneakoscopes can be sensitive to things their owners haven't noticed."

Ron looked unconvinced.

Hermione, meanwhile, was practically glowing.

"I knew there was something special about him! The witch at the Magical Menagerie said nobody wanted him because of his appearance, but he's always been terribly clever."

Lupin returned to his chair and gestured toward the two animals.

"Which brings us back to Scarfoot. If Crookshanks possesses even a portion of a Kneazle's natural ability to recognize suspicious individuals, his friendship with Scarfoot becomes significant."

Lyra looked delighted.

"You mean Crookshanks can tell Scarfoot's a good boy?"

"In a manner of speaking. It's not infallible, of course, but it's reassuring. Combined with Harry's account of their encounters, it gives me good reason to believe Scarfoot means him no harm."

Harry looked at the enormous black dog, who had decided that having his ears cleaned by a cat was the finest experience of his life.

"Well, that's good to know," he admitted.

"Hold on," Ron interrupted. "You're saying Crookshanks can tell when somebody's suspicious?"

"That's correct."

"Then why's he always trying to eat Scabbers?"

Hermione's expression soured.

"Oh, not this again!"

"He's been after my rat since the day you bought him!"

"Crookshanks hasn't done anything wrong!"

"You think trying to eat somebody's pet isn't wrong?"

"Now, now," Lupin interrupted, raising a hand. "Perhaps we should examine that question a little more carefully."

He looked from Ron to Hermione, then down at Scarfoot.

"Tell me about this rat of yours, Mr. Weasley."

"Scabbers?" Ron asked. "What about him?"

"You mentioned that Crookshanks has been especially interested in him. I'd like to know why."

"Because he's a cat!" Ron exclaimed. "Cats eat rats! Hermione's been letting that horrible thing chase Scabbers around since she bought him!"

"Crookshanks isn't horrible! And he doesn't chase any other rats. Just Scabbers," Hermione protested.

Lupin made another note on his parchment and Harry felt he noticed the same significance his professor did.

"He's been trying to eat Scabbers since the day you got him!"

"And you have absolutely no proof that he ever hurt him!"

"He disappeared, Hermione! There was blood on my sheets!"

"Now, now," Lupin interrupted. "Let's establish what actually happened. Mr. Weasley, you believe Crookshanks killed your rat?"

"Yes!"

"Did you find his body?"

Ron hesitated.

"No, but there was blood, and Scabbers was gone. What else could've happened?"

"Many things, potentially. How long had you owned Scabbers?"

"Almsot three years. Percy had him before me."

"Wait, three years? And he already had a previous owner? How old is this rat?"

" We've had him for twelve years, I think."

Lupin gave him a deadpan look.

"Twelve years?" Hermione repeated. "Ron, ordinary rats don't live anywhere near that long! They usually die after three."

"He wasn't an ordinary rat!"

"Clearly," Lupin agreed, although Harry noticed a tinge of anger in his voice. "Did he have any unusual characteristics? Anything that might distinguish him from another rat?"

Ron scratched his head.

"He was pretty fat. Slept a lot. Oh, and he was missing a toe."

"A toe?"

"Yeah. On his front paw."

"Which one?"

"His right, I think. Index. Why?"

Lupin was silent for a moment.

"Just trying to establish whether he might be recognizable if found. Do you know how he lost it?"

Ron shrugged.

"No idea. He's always been like that, far as I remember."

Harry thought Lupin was taking an extraordinary interest in a rat that had probably been eaten months ago. Then again, he'd just spent the better part of an hour investigating a dog because it liked Harry too much.

"Interesting. Miss Malfoy, you mentioned Scarfoot brought you other rats?"

"Several," Lyra confirmed. "All alive, too. He catches them without hurting them, then brings them to me. After he brought one to Ron I figured he was trying to help Ron find Scabbers."

Lupin looked down at Scarfoot, who was still lying beside Crookshanks.

"Most unusual."

"I think he really is looking for Scabbers" Harry suggested.

"And Crookshanks has been after Scabbers all year," Hermione added eagerly. "Maybe he's been trying to tell us something!"

"Like what?" Ron demanded. "That Scabbers tastes delicious?"

"Ron!"

"Actually," Lupin interrupted, "Miss Granger may have a point."

Ron stared at him.

"Professor, you can't seriously be taking her side!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side, Mr. Weasley. I'm observing that we have two animals, one of which possesses a natural ability to recognize suspicious individuals, both displaying an unusual interest in the same rat."

He paused, allowing that to sink in.

"Doesn't that strike you as curious?"

Harry looked from Crookshanks to Scarfoot. The two animals seemed perfectly happy together, entirely unconcerned by the argument taking place above their heads.

"So you think there's something wrong with Scabbers?" he asked.

"I think there's enough uncertainty here to warrant caution. Particularly given his extraordinary age and the circumstances of his disappearance."

"But he's dead!" Ron insisted.

"Perhaps. But as you haven't found a body, I wouldn't consider the matter settled."

Ron folded his arms.

"What are we supposed to do, then?"

"If Scabbers turns up again, I want you to stun him immediately and bring him to me."

"Stun him?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes. And if I'm unavailable, take him directly to Professors Snape, Dumbledore, or McGonagall. Do not attempt to handle him, and under no circumstances allow him to escape."

"Why Snape?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Because Professor Snape is an exceptionally capable wizard, Harry, whatever your personal feelings toward him. And because all four of us can be trusted to examine the animal safely."

"Can't I just put him back in his cage?" Ron asked.

"I'd strongly advise against it. We don't know whether Scabbers has been subjected to some form of magical interference. If he has, attempting to restrain him physically could be dangerous."

Ron looked increasingly unhappy.

"So you want us to attack my rat?"

"I want you to immobilize him without causing injury. A Stunning Spell would be ideal."

The four students exchanged glances. Harry looked at Hermione, who looked at Ron, who looked at Lyra.

"Er, Professor?" Harry ventured.

"Yes?"

"We don't know the Stunning Spell."

Lupin blinked, then looked faintly embarrassed.

"Ah. Of course you don't. My apologies. It's a more advanced spell than you've covered in your lessons."

"I've read about it in a fifth year charms book," Hermione offered. "But I've never actually cast one."

Harry frowned.

"Isn't that a bit advanced for third-years?"

"Ordinarily, yes. But then, so is the Patronus Charm, and you've already made an excellent start on that, Harry."

Harry wilted beneath the appreciative glances his three classmates gave him. He'd been keeping that under wraps. Hermione was the only one who knew.

Lupin glanced at the clock on his wall, then at the four students sitting before him.

"Well, I suppose there's only one sensible solution." He stood, rolled up his sleeves, and smiled. "Time for an impromptu lesson."

The lesson had taken the better part of an hour, and Lyra was rather pleased with herself. She'd never expected to learn a fifth-year spell on a Friday afternoon, much less alongside Harry Potter and his friends. None of them could cast it well enough to stun a human being, but the rats Professor Lupin conjured stood no chance.

Scarfoot seemed equally pleased, although she suspected that had more to do with finally being allowed to leave.

"Just a moment," Professor Lupin said as they approached the door.

He crouched beside Scarfoot and placed a hand on his head.

"I'm putting a great deal of trust in you, Scarfoot. Don't make me regret it."

Scarfoot wagged his tail and tried to lick the professor's face.

Lupin smiled faintly as he dodged the attempt before straightening.

"And I'm putting a great deal of trust in you four as well. Remember what I've told you, and please be careful."

They promised they would, thanked him for the lesson, and departed. They walked side by side down the hall, glancing behind their shoulders for Lupin to close the door. They heard it lock just as they'd rounded the corner and it was then Ron broke the silence.

"So he was totally lying his arse off, right?"

Lyra gasped, and glared at the boy.

"Ohhhh yeah," Harry growled.

"No! Not lying. Just not telling the whole truth," Hermione corrected.

"What's the difference?" Ron asked.

"A very important one. He was being selective about what he shared. Just like you were about how Scarfoot stole your invisibility cloak… at night!" Hermione accused.

Ah. Lyra had caught that Potter was omitting parts of that particular story. Despite her better upbringing, she felt the need to defend her least favorite – although increasingly less disliked – professor.

"Maybe because some of those details could be dangerous," Lyra suggested. "He is a professor, after all."

"That's possible," Hermione conceded. "But did you notice how he kept asking questions that he seemed to know the answers to already?"

"Then perhaps he was confirming what he already suspected," Lyra reasoned. "That's perfectly sensible."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed.

Lyra blinked. She hadn't expected Hermione to agree quite so enthusiastically.

"Exactly?"

"Yes! He wanted us to establish the facts ourselves. He practically walked us through the entire mystery!"

"And taught us how to stun Scabbers," Harry added.

"Which is the really interesting part," Ron said. "Think about it. For once, we've got a professor practically giving us carte blanche to go sleuthing."

"That's not what he said," Lyra protested.

"He told us to look out for Scabbers," Harry pointed out. "And to bring him in if we find him."

"And gave us the means to do it," Hermione added. "He wouldn't have done that if he didn't expect us to go digging for information, or searching for him."

Lyra considered this. She couldn't deny that Lupin had encouraged their curiosity. Indeed, he'd spent much of the afternoon pointing out mysteries they hadn't even realized existed.

But that hardly meant he wanted four thirteen-year-olds conducting an investigation into potentially dangerous magic.

"Look," she said, "I agree that Professor Lupin knows more than he's telling us. But he's clearly trying to protect us. He examined Scarfoot, explained what he could, and even gave us an extra lesson. I think if he's keeping anything from us, it's for our own good, and we should respect that."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped walking.

They looked at one another.

Then, to Lyra's utter bewilderment, all three burst into laughter.

"What?" she demanded.

Ron doubled over. Harry leaned against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. Even Hermione was laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes.

"What is so funny?"

Hermione finally managed to compose herself. Still grinning, she hooked an arm through Lyra's elbow and began dragging her down the corridor.

"Come on. We have some research to do. To the library!

---

And thus the Golden Trio became a quartet. Had fun writing Remus dance around four thirteen years after a long conversation with Sirius, but you all know exactly what they discussed and how well Remus is playing them. Still think this chapter could have been a lot better. But it's as good as it's getting right now.

Thanks again to Seru for the commission, to my Patrons for their support, and to fans like you for your reviews.

 

[Niko]

Could hear Remus going OH SHIT OH SHIT in his head here

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Hah! fixed the threadmark before anybody could whinge about it. Those can be annoying.

 

[Tank man]

It's quite enjoyable to see the professors, and others, exist outside of the warping of the YA genre. They're not perfectlt rational beings, but they're acting a lot mkrr like they should be rather than what they must be to make the book plots advance.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

It's quite enjoyable to see the professors, and others, exist outside of the warping of the YA genre. They're not perfectlt rational beings, but they're acting a lot mkrr like they should be rather than what they must be to make the book plots advance.

Click to shrink...

I'm still having them act a bit crazily, but that's because its a comedy. Remus is still being horrifically irresponsible. But the circumstances are understandably extreme. I mean what's the responsible adult move? Report Siriu's crazy story to Dumbledore and spirit Sirius away? who desperately needs food and medical attention and won't make it far? So I can rationalize it.

 

[TastyHuman]

Lupin: I have independently verified parts of Sirius' story and have given the children a reasonable explanation that will keep them safe if the rest of his story is true. Now I just have to hunt down Peter before he manages to cause harm to any of them.

Kids: Professor gave us permission to investigate a mystery! Let's go!