Chapter 234. Sirius Black and Crookshanks
In the room, Adrian Wesson noticed Remus Lupin sitting alone in the corner.
At that moment Lupin was staring off into space with a tankard of Butterbeer in his hand, lost in thought.
Wesson walked over and patted his shoulder. "You don't look yourself."
"Ah, it's nothing."
Lupin came back to himself, shook his head, and said quietly to Wesson, "Nothing in particular. I'm just worried about Peter."
When Peter's name came out of Lupin's mouth, Wesson raised an eyebrow.
"What are you worried about Peter for?" he asked, puzzled. "Hasn't Dumbledore already arranged everything for him? Even I don't know where he is—he ought to be quite safe."
Wesson wasn't lying; he truly didn't know where Peter was.
Probably only Dumbledore and Lupin knew his location anywhere in Hogwarts.
"I'm not worried about his safety," Lupin gave a small smile. "In fact, Peter told me he wanted to come to Hogsmeade, and Dumbledore refused him. Erm... I think that as long as he puts on a robe, who would know his real identity? Dumbledore seems a bit too nervous. Besides, we'd be there to watch over him..."
Wesson nodded, thoughtful.
Perhaps Peter had said something to Lupin to try to get him to take him out of Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had objected.
However, maybe Dumbledore refused not out of concern for Peter's safety.
He might have noticed something amiss.
After all, trying to hide anything from a sage over a hundred years old was an exceedingly difficult thing.
Peter certainly couldn't manage it.
It was possible Peter was desperate to leave the castle precisely because he felt Hogwarts was no longer safe.
Not only was Sirius Black lying in wait in the dark, but the lies he himself had spun could be exposed at any moment.
Time in Hogsmeade always flew by.
In the blink of an eye, night had already fallen.
Warm orange lights came on along Hogsmeade's streets, and the crowds thinned out.
Students headed back to the castle one after another, getting ready for the Hallowe'en feast.
Hogwarts' Hallowe'en feast was the same as ever: flocks of decorative bats wheeled beneath the ceiling, and countless delicious dishes and delicate puddings had been set out on the tables, awaiting everyone's arrival.
The only pity was that this year there was no performance by the Skeleton Dance Troupe—even though they had specially written to ask whether their services were required.
Wesson felt that while it didn't exactly qualify as pleasing to the eye, it did suit the Hallowe'en atmosphere.
Of course, most students couldn't appreciate it.
The Hallowe'en feast passed in a cheerful mood, but Wesson reckoned that, according to the rule that something always happened at Hogwarts on Hallowe'en, there was bound to be an incident tonight.
The year before last it had been the Petrification incidents; the year before that, a troll.
So this year, was it Sirius Black's turn to take the stage?
At that moment, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower—
The Fat Lady was drunkenly humming a little tune—what would Hallowe'en be without good drink? It was her favourite pastime.
"Oh, do stop."
Flushed from drink, the Fat Lady waved her hand, trying to shoo away the tiny bats flitting about inside the portrait.
Those mischievous little blighters appeared in every painting each Hallowe'en.
Just then, a jumble of footsteps sounded from far off.
The Fat Lady hastily composed herself, ready to welcome the students who were about to arrive.
However, she waited a long time and saw no sign of any students; the footsteps faded away...
Just as she was growing perplexed, around the corner opposite—
A man with a tangled beard and a weathered face was crouching on the ground muttering something, and beside him was a very flat-faced, odd-looking cat.
"Good cat," Black stroked Crookshanks's head. "Can you tell me the password to get in? You said you knew the password, my dear."
"...Meow."
Black froze. He was quite sure the password wasn't "meow."
A very human sort of helplessness crossed Crookshanks's face.
It did know the password, but it was only a cat.
To make it produce a human sound...
Wasn't that making things hard for a cat!
What's more, it couldn't quite understand why its dog friend had turned into a human in the blink of an eye.
And what an ugly human—just like its litter-scooping servant.
Crookshanks shook its head, deciding not to think about something so complicated.
"Useless..."
Black muttered under his breath and stood up. He would still have to think of a way himself.
He had already found out that the rat called Scabbers was being kept in the dormitory of a student named Ron Weasley.
Just you wait, you miserable traitor...
Black clenched his fist in secret.
However, he didn't yet know that his target had already been moved elsewhere.
Close to half an hour later, the feast was about to draw to a close.
Wesson sat quietly in his place, watching the people in the hall without giving anything away.
A peculiar premonition tugged at him—Hallowe'en didn't feel complete without an accident.
Sure enough, once the food on the tables had been mostly demolished, the great doors banged open.
Peeves hurtled into the hall screaming, whirling madly in the air and letting out a piercing cackle. "Black's here! The murderer's here!"
In an instant, the entire hall fell deathly silent, then erupted into a terrified uproar.
Dumbledore sprang to his feet. A jet of golden light from his wand froze Peeves in mid-air.
"You can be clearer than that, Peeves." Dumbledore's stern voice rang through the hall.
Peeves immediately became a bit more compliant; he did have a little respect for the Headmaster.
But he still seemed set on keeping a bit of suspense.
"Go and look at the Fat Lady! Oh, that poor portrait may have been ripped to shreds."
Peeves announced at the top of his voice, then shot away like a streak.
The hall exploded.
"All students!" Dumbledore used a voice-amplifying charm to quell the commotion. "All students are to remain where they are! Prefects, maintain order; professors, with me!"
Wesson rose at once and followed Dumbledore and the other professors at a brisk pace towards the doors.
It looked like the events from the original story had still happened.
As he passed the Gryffindor table, he noticed Harry trying to stand up, only to be pressed back down by Hermione.
"Don't worry," Wesson bent down and said to Harry. "Stay here. You'll be fine."
Harry nodded silently.
When they reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, the sight before them was shocking—the Fat Lady's portrait had been slashed open in a great rent, the canvas hanging in tatters and the frame left crooked on the wall.
Wesson looked at the scene and couldn't help shaking his head.
He wasn't worried about the Fat Lady's safety; the figures in portraits could travel freely into other paintings.
Still, the Fat Lady had certainly been frightened—someone had actually tried to get into the Gryffindor common room in such a brutal way.
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