"He's my pet rat. My brother Percy found'em when he was little. He was missing a toe on his forepaw and it was still scabbed over. So he named him Scabbers. I got him after Percy got an owl for making Prefect his Fourth year; my First. He mostly sleeps all day but he was sick last year and they gave me a potion to heal him up."
The man chuckled at the story. "So, what are you going to do about my daughter and her friends?"
The Weasley boy looked down in embarrassment. "Dad told me to apologize," he almost mumbled. "I tried - but I just can't."
To his credit, the man merely nodded solemnly although the boy couldn't see it. Sirius could see there was amusement in his eyes. "I see. Maybe a note if you can't say the words aloud? I am sure my daughter would appreciate it. You know she was the only other person outside my staff to comment to me about Smyth's performance after his injury? I think she would enjoy having someone to argue Quidditch with."
The conversation continued but Sirius stopped listening. A rat missing a forepaw toe that lived for at least ten years? Common rats didn't live that long even in the magical world. And the Weasley's fit the profile of being a place no one would look for a Death Eater. A family famous for its support of Dumbledore and the Light? A family notorious in Pureblood circles for being blood traitors and Arthur's obsession with Muggle technology? No. No one on either side would look for the little rat there. Nor would they look in Gryffindor tower for an animagus that is supposed to be dead.
Sirius knew the wards at the Burrow would alert the Weasley's if he went there. He was sure Arthur revoked his access from the wards after his escape if not before. Dobby, like all house-elves, was prevented from accessing another family's home unless called for from within the wards. That left just one option.
Padfoot was going back to Hogwarts.
....
29 October 1993
The large black dog was making his way through the dark Hogwarts grounds. The only light was coming from the school's windows. The full moon was in a few days but a layer of clouds blocked most of the moon's light. Padfoot was being careful not to be seen. He didn't want to alert anyone that he was on the school grounds. If Wormtail caught word that a large, black, Grim-like dog was spotted on the grounds he'd probably do a runner. And then he'd have to start all over again tracking him down.
The dog animagus was moving along the side of Greenhouse #4 when the werewolf came around the greenhouse corner. The creature was massive and much more wolf-like than any werewolf he'd ever seen. Danger and power seemed to radiate from the creature and it sent Padfoot's hackles up. This thing was dangerous.
The werewolf made a show of covering its eyes with one massive clawed hand. It raised its other and started to slowly bring in the thumb. When it started on its pinkie, Padfoot suddenly realized, 'Oh crap, its counting down!'
The large black dog shot off across the field as fast as it could go. Seconds later it could hear the werewolf sprinting after it. He started running a wild evasion pattern trying to lose the creature. No one knew the hidden paths and obstacles of Hogwarts like the Marauders. But the creature seemed to know them all also.
Then it caught him.
The massive claw reached out and smacked the Grim-looking dog on the flank. Padfoot yelped in shock and lost his footing. The dog tumbled to the ground but quickly jumped up expecting an attack.
Instead he saw the werewolf sitting on its haunches thirty feet away, its tongue lolling out in amusement. Padfoot panted for breath as his brain tried to catch up. Finally, he realized, 'The damn werewolf is playing with me!'
It turned to leave and looked back as if to say, "Your turn." Then it took off in a ground eating lope. The large dog barked a laugh and started out after creature.
22 August 1994
By the prinking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
The famous quote was delivered in Shakespeare's Macbeth by a witch and came from ancient Roman superstitions. The Romans didn't talk about feeling the hairs on the back of their neck raise when they sensed danger. Instead they spoke of prickling sensations on their thumbs as a harbinger of danger. This stayed with many of old magical families able to trace their lineage back to before the split between the magical and mundane world.
The three old witches sat around their fire happily gossiping about events that happened long ago in low voices broken occasionally by the loud cackling laugh. An iron pot supported by a wrought iron tripod hung over the fire and an odd green stew bubbled merrily inside. None of the witches cared in the least that they perfectly reflected a Muggle's view of stereotypical witches.
As one they suddenly stopped talking. They turned to face a small clearing not too far from their spot. Hands moving to wands as the three prepared to face a great danger.
An instant later, two men and a teenage boy appeared in the spot. One man was well-groomed with a tight goatee and close-cut black hair streaked with some white at the temples. He also wore expensive looking silk robes. The boy wore similar robes but his black hair was messy and defiant. The boy's eyes were a beautiful green shade but they could sense a power there waiting to be unleashed. The second man looked a bit worn as did his robes but he seemed cheerful as he pointed the other two towards the Ministry personal registering new arrivals. It did not escape the witches that the rumpled but cheerful wizard was also a werewolf.
.....
Join my p@treon and read ahead by more than 60+ chapters.
Link : [email protected]/InfinityWeaver
Free members can read the next two chapters for free on my p@treon