The Prisoner of Azkaban

by J. K. Rowling

They reached Hagrid’s cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering, and when he did, he looked all around for his visitor, pale-faced and trembling.

  ‘It’s us,’ Harry hissed. ‘We’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off.’

  ‘Yeh shouldn’ve come!’ Hagrid whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry pulled off the Cloak.

  Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than tears.

  ‘Wan’ some tea?’ he said. His great hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

  ‘Where’s Buckbeak, Hagrid?’ said Hermione hesitantly.

  ‘I – I took him outside,’ said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. ‘He’s tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an’ – an’ smell fresh air – before –’

  Hagrid’s hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

  ‘I’ll do it, Hagrid,’ said Hermione quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess.

  ‘There’s another one in the cupboard,’ Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Harry glanced at Ron, who looked back hopelessly.

  ‘Isn’t there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?’ Harry asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. ‘Dumbledore –’

  ‘He’s tried,’ said Hagrid. ‘He’s got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told ’em Buckbeak’s all right, but they’re scared … yeh know what Lucius Malfoy’s like … threatened ’em, I expect … an’ the executioner, Macnair, he’s an old pal o’ Malfoy’s … but it’ll be quick an’ clean … an’ I’ll be beside him …’

  Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin, as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

  ‘Dumbledore’s gonna come down while it – while it happens. Wrote me this mornin’. Said he wants ter – ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore …’

  Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid’s cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

  ‘We’ll stay with you, too, Hagrid,’ she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

  ‘Yeh’re ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don’ wan’ yeh watchin’. An’ yeh shouldn’ be down here anyway … if Fudge an’ Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission, Harry, yeh’ll be in big trouble.’

  Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione’s face, but she hid them from Hagrid, bustling around making tea. Then, as she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let out a shriek.

  ‘Ron! I – I don’t believe it – it’s Scabbers!’

  Ron gaped at her.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside-down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

  ‘Scabbers!’ said Ron blankly. ‘Scabbers, what are you doing here?’

  He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron’s hands as though desperate to free himself.

  ‘It’s OK, Scabbers!’ said Ron. ‘No cats! There’s nothing here to hurt you!’

  Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the colour of parchment.

  ‘They’re comin’ …’

  Harry, Ron and Hermione whipped around. A group of men was walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.

  ‘Yeh gotta go,’ said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling. ‘They mustn’ find yeh here … go on, now …’

  Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the Cloak.

  ‘I’ll let yeh out the back way,’ said Hagrid.

  They followed him to the door into his back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side, and pawed the ground nervously.

  ‘It’s OK, Beaky,’ said Hagrid softly. ‘It’s OK …’ He turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Get goin’.’

  But they didn’t move.

  ‘Hagrid, we can’t –’

  ‘We’ll tell them what really happened –’

  ‘They can’t kill him –’

  ‘Go!’ said Hagrid fiercely. ‘It’s bad enough without you lot in trouble an’ all!’

  They had no choice. As Hermione threw the Cloak over Harry and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.

  ‘Go quick,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Don’ listen …’

  And he strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.

  Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off silently around Hagrid’s house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

  ‘Please, let’s hurry,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it …’

  They started up the sloping lawn towards the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

  Ron stopped dead.

  ‘Oh, please, Ron,’ Hermione began.

  ‘It’s Scabbers – he won’t – stay put –’

  Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing, trying to sink his teeth into Ron’s hand.

  ‘Scabbers, it’s me, you idiot, it’s Ron,’ Ron hissed.

  They heard a door open behind them and men’s voices.

  ‘Oh Ron, please let’s move, they’re going to do it!’ Hermione breathed.

  ‘OK – Scabbers, stay put –’

  They walked forwards; Harry, like Hermione, was trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. Ron stopped again.

  ‘I can’t hold him – Scabbers, shut up, everyone’ll hear us –’

  The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid’s garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence and then, without warning, the unmistakeable swish and thud of an axe.

  Hermione swayed on the spot.

  ‘They did it!’ she whispered to Harry. ‘I d-don’t believe it – they did it!’

  – CHAPTER SEVENTEEN –

  Cat, Rat and Dog

  Harry’s mind had gone blank with shock. The three of them stood transfixed with horror under the Invisibility Cloak. The very last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling.

  ‘Hagrid,’ Harry muttered. Without thinking about what he was doing, he made to turn back, but both Ron and Hermione seized his arms.

  ‘We can’t,’ said Ron, who was paper white. ‘He’ll be in worse trouble if they know we’ve been to see him …’

  Hermione’s breathing was shallow and uneven.

  ‘How – could – they?’ she choked. ‘How could they?’

  ‘Come on,’ said Ron, whose teeth seemed to be chattering.

  They set off back towards the castle, walking slowly to keep themselves hidden under the Cloak. Light was fading fast now. By the time they reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around them.

  ‘Scabbers, keep still,’ Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling
madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. ‘What’s the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still – OUCH! He bit me!’

  ‘Ron, be quiet!’ Hermione whispered urgently. ‘Fudge’ll be out here in a minute –’

  ‘He won’t – stay – put –’

  Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron’s grip.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  But Harry had just seen – slinking towards them, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness – Crookshanks. Whether he could see them, or was following the sound of Scabbers’s squeaks, Harry couldn’t tell.

  ‘Crookshanks!’ Hermione moaned. ‘No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!’

  But the cat was getting nearer –

  ‘Scabbers – NO!’

  Too late – the rat had slipped between Ron’s clutching fingers, hit the ground and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness.

  ‘Ron!’ Hermione moaned.

  She and Harry looked at each other, then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the Cloak; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after Ron; they could hear his feet thundering along ahead, and his shouts at Crookshanks.

  ‘Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come here –’

  There was a loud thud.

  ‘Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat –’

  Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

  ‘Ron – come on – back under the Cloak –’ Hermione panted. ‘Dumbledore – the Minister – they’ll be coming back out in a minute –’

  But before they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark – an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

  Harry reached for his wand, but too late – the dog had made an enormous leap and its front paws hit him on the chest. He keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth –

  But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him; dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack.

  Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang back towards them, he pushed Harry aside; the dog’s jaws fastened instead around Ron’s outstretched arm. Harry lunged at it and seized a handful of the brute’s hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as if he were a rag-doll –

  Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall, too. Harry groped for his wand, blinking blood out of his eyes –

  ‘Lumos!’ he whispered.

  The wand-light showed him the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow and its branches were creaking as though in a high wind, whipping backwards and forwards to stop them going nearer.

  And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backwards into a large gap in the roots – Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight –

  ‘Ron!’ Harry shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backwards again.

  All they could see now was one of Ron’s legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog pulling him further underground. Then a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron’s leg had broken, and next second, his foot had vanished from sight.

  ‘Harry – we’ve got to go for help –’ Hermione cried; she was bleeding, too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder.

  ‘No! That thing’s big enough to eat him, we haven’t got time –’

  ‘We’re never going to get through without help –’

  Another branch whipped down at them, twigs clenched like knuckles.

  ‘If that dog can get in, we can,’ Harry panted, darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn’t get an inch nearer to the tree-roots without being in range of the tree’s blows.

  ‘Oh, help, help,’ Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, ‘please …’

  Crookshanks darted forwards. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

  Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

  ‘Crookshanks!’ Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Harry’s arm painfully hard. ‘How did he know –?’

  ‘He’s friends with that dog,’ said Harry grimly. ‘I’ve seen them together. Come on – and keep your wand out –’

  They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds, but before they had reached the gap in the roots, Crookshanks had slid into it with a flick of his bottle-brush tail. Harry went next; he crawled forwards, headfirst, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Crookshanks was a little way along, his eyes flashing in the light from Harry’s wand. Seconds later, Hermione slithered down beside him.

  ‘Where’s Ron?’ she whispered in a terrified voice.

  ‘This way,’ said Harry, setting off, bent-backed, after Crookshanks.

  ‘Where does this tunnel come out?’ Hermione asked breathlessly from behind him.

  ‘I don’t know … it’s marked on the Marauder’s Map but Fred and George said no one’s ever got into it. It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it ends up in Hogsmeade …’

  They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double; ahead of them, Crookshanks’s tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes. All Harry could think of was Ron, and what the enormous dog might be doing to him … he was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch …

  And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

  He and Hermione paused, gasping for breath, edging forwards. Both raised their wands to see what lay beyond.

  It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded-up.

  Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened, but nodded.

  Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry’s arm again. Her wide eyes were travelling around the boarded windows.

  ‘Harry,’ she whispered. ‘I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack.’

  Harry looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely.

  ‘Ghosts didn’t do that,’ he said slowly.

  At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. Both of them looked up at the ceiling. Hermione’s grip on Harry’s arm was so tight he was losing feeling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded again and let go.

  Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs.

  They reached the dark landing.

  ‘Nox,’ they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open. As they crept towards it
, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod.

  Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

  On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings, lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron.

  Harry and Hermione dashed across to him.

  ‘Ron – are you OK?’

  ‘Where’s the dog?’

  ‘Not a dog,’ Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. ‘Harry, it’s a trap –’

  ‘What –’

  ‘He’s the dog … he’s an Animagus …’

  Ron was staring over Harry’s shoulder. Harry wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them.

  A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn’t been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

  ‘Expelliarmus!’ he croaked, pointing Ron’s wand at them.

  Harry’s and Hermione’s wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry.

  ‘I thought you’d come and help your friend,’ he said hoarsely. His voice sounded as though he had long ago lost the habit of using it. ‘Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run for a teacher. I’m grateful … it will make everything much easier …’

  The taunt about his father rang in Harry’s ears as though Black had bellowed it. A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack … to kill. Without knowing what he was doing, he started forwards, but there was a sudden movement on either side of him and two pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back. ‘No, Harry!’ Hermione gasped in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, spoke to Black.

  ‘If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us, too!’ he said fiercely, though the effort of standing up had drained him of still more colour, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.