Chapter Text
"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing Draco's wand at them. Sylas snatched the wand from his hand and it twirled through the air, catching it in the process. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Sylas.
"I knew you'd come to help your friend," Black said hoarsely. His voice sounded as if he hadn't needed it for a long time. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to get a teacher first. I'm grateful; it will make everything much easier..."
Sylas frowned. The remark about his father echoed in his ears, as if Black had shouted at him. "My ... father?" he asked uncertainly.
Black looked at him in confusion before his features cleared. "Right, you go to school here under a different name." Sylas' heart began to pound wildly in his chest. "There are rumors that ... Harry Potter ... survived the fire," Black said.
"Rumors that never got confirmed," Syla growled, his gaze flickering to Draco, who lay unconscious on the floor.
Black laughed briefly, a harsh, joyless sound. "Rumors have started swirling again... two years ago, when I saw you in the newspaper... with that sleazy Lockhart, I could hardly believe my eyes," he said, laughing helplessly. "At first, I thought I'd gone mad, that the Dementors had come for me after all, but when I finally managed to escape from Azkaban and saw you with my own eyes — I knew..."
Sylas' throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert. "Knew what?" he croaked, almost afraid to ask the question.
"That Harry Potter ... survived."
Sylas looked at him, astonished.
He knew.
Sirius Black knew his best-kept secret ...
His thoughts raced through his head. Every emotion blazed in his chest. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back ... not to defend himself, but to attack ... to kill.
Black knew.
He knew it.
He. knew. it.
"Is that why you want to kill me?" Sylas sneered. "Is that why you escaped, because you realized I'm still alive and a potential enemy for the Dark Lord?!" He clenched his hands into fists. Suddenly, a hatred he'd never experienced before surged through him.
"There will only be one murder today and you are not the victim, Harry," said Black, his grin widening.
Sylas' expression slipped for a moment. Black spoke his name with such... relief and hope that he didn't know how to interpret it.
"You didn't care last time, did you?" Sylas hissed at him. "Slaughtering all those Muggles to get to Pettigrew didn't bother you... what's wrong? Did you go soft in Azkaban?"
And then he remembered what he thought he believed from the beginning.
Black wasn't after him.
For a moment, he studied the man before him, and in that moment, he realized his situation. He was small, skinny, and only thirteen. Black, on the other hand, was a large, fully grown man, and yet he felt the urge to inflict as much pain on Black as possible, and he didn't care if Black hurt him back.
He clenched his fists, memories flashing his minds from his miserable childhood. The picture in the Trophy room flashed before his eyes and Sylas bit his lip.
He could have had a normal life ...
Something in him just snapped at that moment and all reasoning left his body, ignoring every weird intuition he ever had.
"You're supposedly responsible for my parents' deaths!" Sylas snarled. He didn't care whether it was really Black or not. In that particular moment he just wanted to punish someone, make someone pay for having to grow up without parents, without family. He wanted someone to feel the exact same pain he had felt all these years.
And Black was the one everyone blamed for the incident.
Black was the ultimate scapegoat.
Sylas would do everyone a favour.
Perhaps Black was momentarily stunned by Sylas doing something so stupid, but he didn't raise his wands in time. Sylas grabbed Black's emaciated wrist and pushed the wands away from him; with his other hand, he struck Black's temple so hard his knuckles ached, and they both crashed against the wall.
Blinding flashes of light shot from the wands in Black's hand, and a spark missed Sylas' head by a hair's breadth. Sylas felt Black desperately trying to tear the emaciated arm Sylas was clutching free, but he gripped it even tighter and lashed out madly at Black with his other hand.
Sylas managed to hook the man, causing him to stagger and lose his balance. In that moment of inattention, Sylas grabbed the wands and shoved Black to the ground.
Black lay stretched out against the wall, his flat chest rising and falling rapidly as he followed Sylas slowly approaching him, his wand pointed directly at Black's heart.
"Are you going to kill me, Harry?", again he spoke his name with such softness, it made Sylas doubt his anger.
Sylas stood over him, his wand pointed steadily at Black's chest, and looked down at him. A burning gash etched around his left eye, and his nose was bleeding.
"Death ... is too peaceful for you," Sylas breathed, his hand holding his wand perfectly still.
A tense silence fell between the two, only Black's gasp could be heard. Just as the man began to speak, Sylas unleashed the first curse on him, because if he said his name once again, Sylas wouldn't be able to finally get some sort of revenge.
"Crucio!"
A red beam of light struck Black directly in the chest. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the eerie emptiness of the Shrieking Shack. Black writhed in pain, his eyes wide open.
The corners of Sylas' mouth twitched slightly upward. This feeling of power was ... incredible. Never had he felt so good or so easy to cast spells. The words of the curse came as naturally to his lips as drinking Butterbeer.
The beam of light disappeared, and Black lay breathing heavily on the creaking wooden floor. "I didn't mean to!" he said suddenly.
Sylas frowned. "You didn't mean for it?" he repeated, hearing the blood rushing in his ears. "You told the Dark Lord where to find them, and you didn't know he would kill them?!"
Black opened his lips once more –
"Crucio!"
Another bloodcurdling scream echoed through the Shrieking Shack. Once again, that sweet sweet satisfaction. Those aching screams were pure euphoria to Sylas' ears. This was exactly what he needed. This was exactly what he had always imagined when reading Evile Moste Magick. The three forbidden curses were the very first thing the book covered.
Never could he imagined, that practicing the dark arts felt so ... thrilling.
"Listen to me!" Black croaked, a pleading note in his voice. "Kill me if you want, but first listen to me... if not, you'll regret it... you don't understand..."
"You can save your lame excuses!" Sylas said, his voice trembling. "Crucio! " Once again, he cast the forbidden curse, and once again he screamed his head off. Sylas just couldn't stop grinning. Finally, someone would feel the pain he'd been carrying all this time.
That quiet voice deep inside him, trying to somehow remind him of reason, was drowned out by utter hatred and euphoria.
Merlin, he felt great!
The curse faded once more, and before either of them could say another word, something rusty-brown scurried past Sylas, and Crookshanks jumped onto Black's chest and curled up right over Black's heart.
Black blinked and looked at the cat. "Get out of here," he grumbled, painfully trying to push Crookshanks away. But Crookshanks dug his claws into Black's cloak and didn't move. The cat turned his ugly, dented face toward Sylas and looked up at him with his large yellow eyes.
Sylas stared at Black and Crookshanks, gripping his wand even tighter. He raised his wand. The time had come. This was the moment to take revenge.
He would kill Black.
He had to kill Black.
This was his chance...
And the seconds dragged on, and still Sylas stood rooted to the spot, clutching his wand. Black, with Crookshanks on his chest, stared up at him. That damned ball of fur staring at him with those glowing yellow eyes made him hesitate, because he remembered what Granger once said.
Cats have an instinct for strange things.
Or was it the feeling of doubt about Black that he'd been carrying around with him for months that made him hesitate?
He heard Draco's rattling breathing from the bed.
Sylas ignored Crookshanks and focused only on Black's empty, wide-open eyes. He took a deep breath and exhaled, then suddenly the stairs beneath him rumbled, rising dangerously fast, and Sylas still hadn't acted.
He gripped his wand tightly.
Do it now! said a quiet voice in his head.
"Avada –"
The door crashed open with a shower of red sparks, and Sylas whirled around. Professor Lupin burst into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised threateningly. His eyes flickered over to Draco, crouching unconscious beside the bed, to Sylas, who stood threatening Black with his wand, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Sylas' feet.
"Expelliarmus!" cried Lupin.
Once again, the wands flew from Sylas' hand. Lupin deftly caught them, then stepped closer and stared at Black, on whose chest Crookshanks still lay protectively.
Sylas stood there, feeling an uncontrollable rage within him. One damned second longer ... one damned second ... and Black would no longer be among them! Now the Dementors would do his work. For a second, he regretted sending Daphne to fetch a teacher.
Then Lupin spoke, his voice strained to the breaking point.
"Where is he, Sirius?"
Sylas looked at Lupin in surprise. He didn't understand what he meant. Where was who? He looked at Black again. Black's face was completely expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed at Draco. Astonished, Sylas turned to Draco, who was still lying there unconscious.
"But then..." Lupin murmured, staring at Black so intently as if trying to read his thoughts, "why has he never revealed himself? Unless" - and Lupin's eyes suddenly opened wide, as if he saw something else behind Black, something none of the others could see— "unless it was him... when you swapped... without telling me?"
Very slowly, with his sunken eyes fixed on Lupin's face, Black nodded his head.
"Professor," Sylas began, "what—?"
But he never finished his question, because what he saw choked him. Lupin lowered his wand and stared fixedly at Black. And then he leaped to Black's side, grabbed him by the hand, pulled him up so Crookshanks fell to the ground, and hugged Black like a brother.
Sylas felt as if his stomach had turned.
A laugh escaped his throat. Quiet at first, then it grew louder and louder. He could hardly contain himself any longer; he found the situation so funny and surreal.
"I ... I can't believe it," Sylas' voice was only whispered and flickered with tons of accusations.
Lupin broke away from Black and turned to him, scrutinizing his student with a worried look.
"And I, the idiot, still trusted you!" Sylas continued to laugh.
"Sylas, please listen to me," Lupin cried. "I can explain."
"And you were his friend the whole time! And I never told anyone your secret!" His laughter died down, and he looked at him with such a blank expression that the two grown men began to feel uncomfortable.
"You helped him get into the castle. Now I know why Snape was so suspicious of you! Not just because you're a werewolf, but because you bloody well helped a mass murderer!" he growled, clenching his hands into fists.
An eerie silence fell. Sirius Black continued to stare at Lupin; it was impossible to tell what he thought of all this. Lupin, too, seemed surprisingly calm, albeit rather pale.
"I won't deny that I'm a werewolf, but I didn't help Sirius get into the castle," a strange tremor flitted across his face. "Since when do you know?"
"For a while," whispered Sylas. "At first, I thought you just had a weak immune system, but those potions Snape always brewed for you didn't seem designed for that. Snape's essay also made me aware of werewolves, and I subconsciously remembered when they were sick."
"He'll be pleased," said Lupin coldly. "He had you write the essay in the hope that someone would recognize what my symptoms meant... Did you check the lunar chart and see that I was ill during a full moon? Or did you notice that the Boggart turned into a moon when he saw me?"
"Both," Sylas said dangerously quietly. "The boggart only came to mind a few weeks ago, when you took the Marauder's Map from me. I needed something against - " he interrupted himself, biting his lips.
Lupin smiled painedly. "You needed something against me ... because I found out your secret too."
Sylas' heart sank once more. So he had seen it after all. His real name on the map, and he acted like he didn't know anything the whole time! Another laugh escape his throat, sounding more desperate than pleased.
"I must say, you're the most cunning wizard your age I've ever met ... Harry," his name was barely a whisper, yet it crushed Sylas like a ton of concrete. "At first, I thought the map lies -"
"The map never lies!" interrupted Black, who suddenly hobbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it as if his legs could no longer support him. Crookshanks jumped up to him and crawled onto his lap, purring.
Sylas kept a close eye on him, as Draco was lying not far away.
"I never could accept the fact that Harry Potter supposedly died in that housefire that day", Lupin explained, with a pained expression on his face. "I couldn't come to terms, that the only son of one of my best friends ... died and I always searched for clues." For a second he paused, his eyes filled with nostalgia when he looked ad Sylas. "I had that feeling from the first moment I saw you, but I couldn't quite interpret it. The fact that you ended up in Slytherin made me doubt. I didn't want to stir up old stories ... but when I saw your name on the map ... I started to investigate."
Sylas bit his lip.
"Funny coincidence that you came to Ashford's Orphanage just a short time after the Dursleys' fire", his voice filled with irony. "But the ultimate proof came during our Dementor training. That's when I saw it," Lupin said, sounding impressed. "You're hiding it pretty well."
Sylas frowned. "Hiding ... what?"
"The scar."
Sylas just looked at him in confusion.
"The scar on your forehead," Lupin explained. Sylas automatically touched his forehead. "I've always been paying special attention to your forehead because it's the proof that you're Harry Potter."
"What are you talking about?" Sylas asked, frustrated.
"He doesn't know, Remus. How could he?" Black croaked. Sylas turned to the starving man and waited for an explanation.
"When Voldemort attacked your house and killed your parents, he meant to kill you too, Harry. He cast the deadliest curse on you, but ... you survived. You became a legend." Black gasped for air and then continued. "Every child knew of your story and your name. Harry Potter, who defeated the darkest wizard as an infant and escaped with only a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead."
Sylas felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. That scar… that single damned scar was the reason he'd given himself away… and he hadn't even realized it. How could he? Mr. Ashford had burned and hidden it, the only trace of his true identity.
...
Mr. Ashford ... had hidden them ...
Sylas staggered back, steadying himself against the wall, a hand over his eyes. The realization threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn't collapse.
Not here.
Not now.
Two adults with wands stood against a child.
"Harry..." Lupin began, but Sylas raised a hand. The way they pronounced this name, shook his core to an extend, where he wanted to rip his ears off.
"Harry Potter ... is ... dead," Sylas breathed heavely, almost mechanically. "Harry Potter died ... in the Dursleys' house fire. Harry Potter is no longer with us."
He tried to take a controlled, deep breath. "And now someone explain to me what the hell this is all about?!" he raised his voice, causing Lupin to flinch briefly. He didn't wanna talk about the whole Harry Potter incident. They were there, because of other matters!
"Did you help Black or not?!", his voice filled with an anger he couldn't describe.
"I never helped Sirius," Lupin said slowly. "Ever since you told me you saw Pettigrew on the map, I've been carefully consulting the map again and again and have seen it."
"Pettigrew is dead," Sylas growled impatiently. "Black killed him! The map is wrong!"
"The. map. is. never. wrong!" Black said again, emphasizing each word.
"I saw your names at Hagrid's hut," Lupin continued. "When you came out, there were four names next to you."
"There were three of us!"
"I didn't want to believe it either," muttered Lupin. "Then when I saw Sirius' name racing toward you and dragging two of you under the Whomping Willow, I just had to see for myself."
"He just dragged Draco down," hissed Sylas
"No, Harry," said Lupin, his gaze wandering over to Draco. "Two of you. Could I take a look at the rat?"
Sylas stood tensely, studying Draco. Something in his jacket pocket began to squeak in panic. He slowly approached Draco, stuck a hand into Draco's robes, and pulled out Scabbers, who was thrashing around desperately. He almost escaped, but Sylas hadn't just caught him by his long, bald tail. Crookshanks raised his head and was snarling.
Lupin took a step closer and seemed to hold his breath as he studied Scabbers carefully.
"What does Weasley's rat have to do with all this?" growled Sylas.
"That's not a rat," Sirius Black suddenly croaked.
"What do you mean - of course it's a rat -"
"No, it's not," said Lupin calmly. "It's a wizard."
"An Animagus," said Black, "named Peter Pettigrew."
Sylas frantically searched their faces for any sign of deception. But there was nothing.
Only conviction.
Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through his forehead. He groaned and pressed his hand against the scar.
Hadn't he once found it strange that a rat could live to be twelve years old?
The pain got worse.
That's why Black broke into Gryffindor Tower because he wanted to kill Pettigrew.
Pain exploded behind his eyes. He sank to his knees, gasping, the scar burning hot.
He stared at the rat desperately. There ... a missing claw?
Pettigrew. Only one of his fingers had been found.
"So it wasn't Black who betrayed my parents, but Pettigrew?" he asked croakily.
He looked at Black, who nodded thoughtfully; his sunken eyes suddenly lit up. "Harry... it was practically my fault," he murmured. "I persuaded Lily and James at the last moment to take Peter as Secret-Keeper instead of me... I'm to blame, I know it... the night they died... I went to visit Peter, but he wasn't home and it didn't look like a struggle. I went straight to your parents... and when I saw their destroyed house and their bodies... I realized what Peter must have done... what I had done..."
His voice failed and he turned away. "Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I caught him, he screamed so loudly that the whole street heard that I had betrayed James and Lily. Then, before I could cast my curse, he swept his wand behind his back and blew up the entire street, killing everyone within a ten-meter radius ... he disappeared down the drain with the other rats."
Lupin took a step toward Sylas. "Harry, is everything -"
"I'm fine," he growled, getting back to his feet, leaning against the wall behind him. "If that damn rat really is Pettigrew... then prove it." Sylas' eyes flashed dangerously. He would make that rat pay for what he'd done to him, what he'd done to his parents.
Sylas held Scabbers out to Lupin, and he grabbed him. Scabbers began to squeal desperately and struggled against Lupin's grip, biting and scratching.
"Ready, Sirius?" asked Lupin.
He approached Lupin and the writhing rat, and his moist eyes suddenly seemed to burn in their sockets.
"Together?" he said quietly.
"I think so," said Lupin, gripping Scabbers firmly in one hand and his wand in the other. "I'll count to three. One, two, three!"
Blue-white flashes crackled from both wands; for a moment Scabbers remained suspended in the air, the small black figure twitching convulsively, then the rat fell to the ground; another blindingly bright beam of light and then ...
It was as if they were watching a tree grow in fast motion. A head sprouted from the floor, then a body, sprouting limbs, and suddenly, where Scabbers had been lying, writhing and wringing his hands, stood a man. Crookshanks, over on the bed, hissed and growled, his back hair standing on end.
He was a very small man, barely taller than Sylas. A small patch of thin, colorless hair surrounded a large bald patch on his head. He gave the slight impression of a chubby man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked dirty, almost like Scabbers' fur, and his pointed nose and very small, watery eyes were reminiscent of a rat.
He looked around, panting. And Sylas knew... deep down, he knew.
This man was responsible for everything that had happened.
The pain in his forehead disappeared instantly. And all his anger he felt towards Black, shifted to this ugly ass motherfucker. It took everything in him to not launch at that man and kill him with his bare hands.
"Oh, hello, Peter," Lupin said jokingly, as if it were nothing unusual for rats around him to turn out to be old school friends. "Long time no see."
"S-Sirius... R-Remus..." Even Pettigrew squeaked. His eyes darted toward the door again. "My friends... my old friends..."
Black raised his wand, but Lupin grabbed his wrist and gave him a warning look, then turned back to Pettigrew, his voice deliberately casual and inviting.
"We had a little chat, Peter, about the night Lily and James died. You may have missed the details while you were squealing on the bed."
"Remus," Pettigrew gasped, and Sylas saw beads of sweat break out on his pasty face, "He tried to kill me, Remus..."
"Allegedly," said Lupin, now a touch cooler. "Peter, I'd like to clear up one or two small questions with you, if you're - "
"He's here to try again!" Pettigrew suddenly squeaked, pointing at Black. Sylas saw that he was using his middle finger because his index finger was missing. Utter Wrath arose inside his heart. "He killed Lily and James, and now he's going to kill me too... you have to help me, Remus..." His gaze now fell on Sylas. "Harry, my dear boy. You look just like your father. Believe me, I would never have betrayed him, I would have—"
But he got no further. Sylas pulled Pettigrew to the ground and beat him, unrestrained, blind with rage. He didn't hear Lupin or Black calling.
He only felt the fists raining down on the doughy face, felt the raw rage that finally erupted.
It was this man's fault! He ruined not only his life, but Sirius' as well!
Hands grabbed him, pulling him back. Blood dripped from Pettigrew's swollen face.
"Let me go!" he cried angrily. "It's his fault! Everything is his fault! That damned bastard hid for twelve years just because he was afraid of the Dark Lord's followers. I bet some of them are still mad at you, Pettigrew."
"I don't know... what you're talking about," Pettigrew said again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his blood-stained face with his sleeve. "If Voldemort's followers are after me, it's only because I brought one of their best men to Azkaban - the spy, Sirius Black!"
Sylas tried to wriggle out of the two men's grasp. "Give me my wand, Lupin! I'll end this! I'll end it once and for all!" he growled, his eyes murderously fixed on Pettigrew, who writhed beneath his gaze.
"Harry, calm down," said Black. "Your parents wouldn't have wanted you to become a murderer because of them."
"I don't care what my parents would have wanted. They're dead!" Sylas cried, fighting back tears. "They're dead because of him! Because of that damned bastard! I'll kill you, you damned rat!"
"Leave it!" Lupin growled, gripping him tighter. "We'll leave him to the Dementors. That's much worse than death. I've already explained that to you."
"Remus is right," said Black. "You said it yourself. Death is too peaceful for him."
Sylas was still seething inside. Just as he was about to tear himself away once more, something suddenly cracked behind them. A door swung open.
"What an... interesting gathering," a cold, cutting voice said.
Sylas turned around and saw Snape standing in the doorway, his wand raised, his lips pressed into a thin line, his black eyes flashing with disgust.
Snape entered slowly, his black cloak swishing behind him as he scanned the scene - Black, Lupin, Sylas, Draco unconscious on the floor, Pettigrew on the ground, covered in blood, whimpering. His gaze lingered on Sylas for a moment longer, his black eyes narrowing slightly.
"I never thought," he said with icy satisfaction, "that I'd find Black alive ... and Peter Pettigrew, who was supposed to be ... dead." His eyes flashed dangerously as he looked at Pettigrew.
He waved his wand at Black and Lupin.
"Back!" he hissed. "Away from the boy."
Lupin and Black immediately let go of Sylas, gave him his wand, and he immediately ran to Draco.
"Ashford, you go back to the castle with Malfoy immediately. You must not allow yourself to be drawn into this any further," Snape said calmly but unequivocally.
Snape stood in front of him – not obviously, but in such a way that, in case of emergency, he stood between him and the threat.
Snape turned to Black and Lupin, his face contorted in disgust. "Sirius Black," he hissed. "And Remus Lupin. Traitor and monster. Together as ever."
Black growled deep in his throat, but Snape ignored him. With an elegant movement, he bound him and Lupin with magical chains that snapped around their bodies.
Pettigrew whimpered on the ground, but Snape barely glanced at him.
Instead, he turned back to Sylas. His voice softened a little, almost fatherly—the way he sometimes spoke to Draco. "You have no more business here, Ashford. Go back to the castle. I'll take care of the rest."
Sylas pressed his lips together, his heart racing. Everything in him screamed to stay, to fight - to finally bring Pettigrew to justice.
Snape saw the hesitation and took half a step closer, his black figure dominating the room.
"You've already shown enough courage," he said quietly. "Courage is a virtue for Gryffindors. We, in Slytherin, know when to fight - and when we're wiser to survive."
He raised his wand slightly, a silent warning, not a command.
Sylas swallowed hard, anger still burning in his chest, but Snape left him no choice. "Professor Snape?"
"What else?"
"As much as I can hardly believe it, Black is ... innocent. Pettigrew betrayed the Potters and is responsible for their deaths. If they're going to punish anyone... it's that damned rat," he growled, trying to keep his anger as low as possible.
Snape examined him, his brow furrowed. "Go, immediately," he hissed.
Sylas grabbed Draco, put his arm over his shoulder, and left the room without a word. Crookshanks ran after him, tiptoeing down the stairs ahead. Down the tunnel, it became difficult to carry Draco and keep Lumos active at the same time. He stumbled forward more than he could walk. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the tunnel.
Crookshanks shot up like an arrow and placed his paws on the knot in the tree trunk, allowing Sylas to easily climb up with Draco in tow.
Night had fallen over the grounds, the only light coming from the distant windows of the castle. Breathing heavily, Sylas hoisted himself and Draco a little farther from the pasture until he sat down in the grass. Dragging Draco all the way there consumed an untold amount of energy.
"Sylas? Sylas!" he heard Daphne's relieved voice.
He whirled around and saw her jump out from behind a tree. Her eyes flickered with concern. "Merlin, I thought he'd killed you!" Her gaze fell on Draco and she sucked in a sharp breath. "What happened? And where's Snape? I was looking for him!"
At that very moment, Draco groaned in pain and opened his eyes. "Fucking hell," he cursed. "That damned bastard has given me a good beating."
"Did Snape get Black?" Daphne asked worriedly, looking at Sylas, who had escaped without major injuries. "You're okay, aren't you? He didn't hurt you."
"He wasn't after me," Sylas gasped.
Draco frowned and Daphne just gave him questioning looks.
"I'm serious, Black really isn't after me. He was after Scabbers the whole time."
"Weasley's rat? Bloody hell, why?" Draco asked, horrified.
"Because Scabbers isn't a rat, he's an Animagus. He's ... Peter Pettigrew."
"What? What nonsense, Pettigrew is dead. Black killed him - " At that very moment, four men climbed out of the Whomping Willow. Lupin was at the front, while Black and Pettigrew were both tied to Snape.
"Not a single wrong move, Peter," Lupin said threateningly, still pointing his wand at Pettigrew's chest.
"That's not possible," Daphne breathed in horror.
Snape noticed his three students on the lawn. "Greengrass, Ashford, Malfoy, back to the castle with you. None of you should be here!"
Sylas immediately stood up and held out a hand to Draco. "Can you stand up?" he asked.
Draco hoisted himself up and staggered slightly. "I can't walk alone. Everything's spinning," he gasped. Daphne immediately helped as well, stabilizing him from the other side.
A hole opened in the clouds in the sky. Suddenly, they cast dark shadows on the grass. The moon bathed them in its light. Snape, Black, and Pettigrew collided with Lupin, who had stopped dead in his tracks. Black froze, as did Snape and Pettigrew.
Sylas could see Lupin's outline. He had become stiff. Then his arms and legs began to shake violently.
Black's gaze turned pleadingly toward the children. "Run!" he shouted. "Run as fast as you can!"
But given Draco's condition, they couldn't just run. "What's going on?" Draco croaked as he tried to keep up.
A horrific growl. Lupin's head stretched, then his body. His shoulders shrank. Hair was clearly visible sprouting from his face and hands, and his hands clenched into claw-like paws. Crookshanks's hair stood on end, and he backed away.
"Lupin is a werewolf!" gasped Sylas. "And apparently forgot to take his potion!"
"What?!" his two friends cried in shock, but there was no time for explanations.
As the werewolf reared up and opened its long maw, Black disappeared from Snape's side. He, too, had transformed - the massive, bear-like dog leaped forward with a mighty leap. When the werewolf freed himself from his bonds, the dog grabbed him by the neck and dragged him away, away from everyone. They lay entangled in each other's flesh, tearing at each other's fur with their claws.
Sylas froze, mesmerized by the sight, seeing and hearing nothing but the fighting animals. Only Daphne's scream tore him from his trance –
Pettigrew had thrown himself onto Lupin's wand in the grass. There was a crack, a flash of light—and Snape didn't move. Another crack—Crookshanks whirled through the air, flew into the grass, and lay curled up.
"Expelliarmus!" Sylas shouted, pointing his wand at Pettigrew. Lupin's wand flew into the night sky and disappeared. "Stay where you are!" Sylas cried, rushing forward.
But it was too late. Pettigrew had transformed.
Sylas saw the bald rat's tail slide effortlessly through the shackle, and then something rustled away in the grass. Behind him, he heard a howl and a thunderous rumble; Sylas turned and saw the werewolf fleeing, bounding toward the forest.
"Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew has transformed!" cried Sylas.
Black was bleeding; there were deep cuts on his mouth and back, but at Sylas' words he got to his feet and soon ran across the grounds until the drumming of his paws slowly faded and died away.
"Uncle Sev! Is he still alive?!" Draco asked desperately.
They sat him down so he could lean against a tree and scurried over to their Head of House. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth slightly open. He was still alive, that much was certain; they could hear him breathing, but he didn't seem to recognize them.
"He's still alive, Draco, don't worry," Daphne called to him.
Sylas looked around desperately. Black and Lupin were gone... and now Snape was incapacitated as well.
"We'd better go up to the castle and get help," suggested Daphne.
Sylas brushed his hair from his eyes and tried to think clearly. But then a whimpering came from the darkness; a dog in agony...
"Sirius," Sylas murmured, staring into the night. He hesitated for a moment, but there was nothing they could do for Snape at the moment, and from the sound of it, Black was in trouble.
Without thinking, Sylas started running. Daphne's and Draco's shouts barely reached his ears. The yelping seemed to be coming from the shore of the lake. They raced toward it, and in mid-run, Sylas felt the wall of cold, but he paid no attention.
Suddenly the howling stopped. Reaching the lakeshore, they saw why: Sirius had transformed back into a man; he was crouching on all fours, his hands clasped above his head.
"Nooooo," he moaned, "nooooo... please..."
And then Sylas saw the Dementors. At least a hundred figures moved toward them like a black mass around the lake. He spun around, and the familiar icy cold penetrated his insides, and fog obscured his vision. Even more figures appeared from the darkness on both sides; they were surrounded...
Daphne stepped up next to him, gasping, shock at the scenario written all over her face.
"Daphne, think of a happy experience!" Sylas cried, raising his wand. He blinked desperately to see and shook his head to clear the faint screaming in his ears, which was gradually growing louder.
He thought about winning the Quidditch Cup, being with his friends in Hogsmeade.
He forced himself to think only of those two things. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! "
Black shuddered, toppled over, and lay motionless and pale as death on the ground.
"Expo patronum! Daphne, help me! Expecto patronum!"
"Expecto— " whispered Daphne, " expecto — expecto— " But she couldn't. The Dementors closed the circle and were now only three meters away from them. They formed an impenetrable ring around Sylas and Daphne, pulling it tighter and tighter...
"Expecto patronum!" Sylas cried, trying to drown out the screaming in his ears. "Expecto patronum!" A thin silver thread shot from his wand and hovered before him like a veil of mist. At the same moment, Sylas felt Daphne collapse beside him.
He was alone... completely alone.
"Expecto - expecto patronum." Sylas felt his knees fall into the cold grass. A fog swirled around him. He racked his brain with one thought:
Sirius was innocent - innocent.
"Expecto patronum!" he gasped. In the dim light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor pause, very close to him. It couldn't penetrate the silvery light Sylas had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as if to brush the Patronus aside.
"No ... no - " gasped Sylas. "He's innocent ... Expecto - Expecto Patronum."
He felt them watching him, their rattling breath like a raging storm. This Dementor seemed to have it in for him. It raised its rotting hands and pulled the hood from its face. Where its eyes should have been, there was only thin, scabby skin stretched smoothly over the empty sockets. But it had a mouth... a deep, misshapen maw, and its breathing sounded like a death rattle. Paralyzing horror overcame Sylas; he could neither move nor speak. His Patronus flickered and died. White mist blinded him. He had to fight... expecto patronum... he could no longer see... and in the distance, he heard the familiar scream.
"Expecto Patronum!"
He groped through the fog for Sirius and found his arm... he wouldn't let them take him away... But a pair of strong, cold, clammy hands suddenly clamped around Sylas' neck. The Dementor forced his chin upward... Sylas felt his breath... they wanted to finish him off first... he smelled his foul breath... his mother screamed in his ears ... the burning heat all over his body.
And then, through the fog that drowned him, he thought he saw a silver light, growing brighter and brighter... he felt himself fall onto the grass. His face in the grass, too weak to move, trembling with nausea, he opened his eyes. The Dementor must have let go of him - a blindingly bright light fell on the grass around him - the screaming had stopped, the cold was fading...
Something drove the Dementors away...
It circled around him, Black, and Daphne... the Dementors floated away... the air warmed... With the last of his strength, Sylas lifted his head a little higher and saw, amidst the light, an animal galloping away across the lake... with sweat-drenched eyes, Sylas tried to make out what it was... it was as bright as a unicorn...
Sylas, desperately fighting against faintness, saw it arrive on the other bank and rear up. The creature was so bright that he could still see someone warmly greeting it... raising a hand and patting it...
He could no longer think. His remaining strength drained away, and his head hit the ground.
He fainted.