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mischiefandspirits · 6 years

Text

Grim

After leaving Private Drive, Harry Potter came face to face with a large dog. He may or may not have accidentally adopted it. ((Takes place during PoA))

A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: Someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he'd know whether it was just a stray cat or -- something else.

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled, the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

He froze, watching the beast as it watched him. They continued their stare off for a few moments before it slowly stepped forwards. It was a dog, tall and sickly thin with shaggy black hair that almost hid its weight. It’s ears were pressed back and it’s head was lowered, but it’s tail was relaxed, wagging slightly and it’s tongue peaked out of its mouth.

Harry sighed and lowered his wand slightly. The size of the animal was still a little nerve racking, but he’d had enough experience with aggressive dogs courtesy of Aunt Marge to know this one was anything but. Besides, it hardly compared to Fluffy. “Hey there, buddy. What are you doing here?”

The stray -- because what else could it be with its gaunt appearance and matted hair while so close to a place as carefully cultivated as Privet Drive -- sniffed the air before approaching cautiously.

Keeping a firm grasp on his wand, just in case, he held out his hand for the hound to smell. It brushed his fingers with its nose, staring up at Harry with pale grey eyes, before pushing its cheek up against his hand. He smiled and scratched behind its ears, a sudden familiarity Harry couldn’t explain filling him. “Good boy.”

The stray snorted and playfully shoved his chest with its head, which was level with his armpits. Despite its frame, it had enough strength in it that it sent Harry stumbling back a step with a laugh. Unfortunately his foot caught his trunk and he tumbled backwards. The dog let out a yelp while Harry flung his arms out to catch himself.

There was a loud bang and Harry was blinded a sudden bright light. With help from the hound he rolled out of the gutter he’d landed in just before a bus slammed to a halt, its front wheels exactly where Harry had been.

The dog growled and it stepped over Harry protectively, hackles raised and body stiff, as a teenager in a bright purple uniform hopped down from the similarly colored triple decker and loudly announced, “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve-”

The teen cut off as he finally spotted the stray and boy on the ground. He slowly took a step back into the bus, watching Harry’s new friend warrily.

Harry gave him a nervous smile, patting the hound’s neck as he sat up. It stopped growling and relaxed slightly, but stayed close to Harry with its ears forward and tail alert.

As Harry grabbed his dropped wand, Stan asked, “What were you doin’ down there? An’ woss wrong with ‘im?”

“The bus spooked him and I fell,” Harry said, checking himself over. His hand was bleeding slightly and one of the knees on his pants had torn. The stray gave a small whine and nosed his hand, looking up at him with apologetic eyes before turning back to watch the conductor.

“‘Choo flag us for if your dog’s so easily spooked?”

“He’s not- Nevermind. You said this bus goes anywhere?”

“Yep, anywhere you like, long’s it’s on land. Can’t do nuffink underwater,” Stan proclaimed before eyeing Harry suspiciously. “‘Ere, you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ‘and, dincha?”

“Yes,” Harry said, disguising his ducked head by scratching the hound’s. “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?”

“Eleven Sickles, but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice. An’ it’s an extra three Sickles for the dog. Too big, see.”

Harry bit his lip and glanced down at the stray. It stared back for a moment before giving a cheerful bark and hopping up next to Stan, who quickly backed away despite the fact it seemed perfectly relaxed now, if a bit playful.

“Right.” He reached into his still open trunk and pulled out his coin purse. He dug out fourteen of the silver coins and handed them over. He tossed the bag back into his trunk and closed it so he and Stan could lift it and Hedwig’s cage up into the bus. Inside there were a dozen beds in place of seats. The ones at the bottom were all empty aside from one holding a sleeping wizard near the back.

“You ‘ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. The dog hopped up to lay down on the bed and Harry glanced nervously over at Stan. He knew even Aunt Marge, who probably loved her bulldogs more than even her family, didn’t allow them on the furniture. The teenage conductor didn’t even seem to notice. He motioned towards the driver, saying, “This is our driver, Ernie Prang. Ern, this is… Hey, ‘choo say your name was again?”

“Didn’t,” Harry muttered, pushing his bangs down against his forehead to hide his scar. “I’m, uh, Neville Longbottom.”

The stray picked its head up to stare at him. He patted its head and sat down next to it as Stan sat down in an armchair next to Ernie’s.

“Take ‘er away, Ern!”

“There you are Harry!”

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was gone only a second later though as the dog at Harry’s side started growling.

As Stan started shouting for Ernie to come, Harry turned to see the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, standing behind him. He was staring down at the hound looking just as nervous as Harry was about seeing Fudge.

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.

“What didja call Neville, Minister?” Stan exclaimed, hoping down from the bus.

“Neville? This is Harry Potter,” the minister said, sounding worn out.

“I knew it! Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!”

“Yes, well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…” It looked like Fudge was going to set his hand on Harry’s shoulder again before he glanced down at the stray and stepped aside, gesturing Harry forward. “Mr. Potter.”

Harry walked into the pub, dog at his side and Fudge at his back.

“You’ve got him, Minister!” Harry turned to see the Leaky Cauldron’s landlord, Tom, peeking out of a door behind the bar, a lantern in hand. “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”

“Perhaps a pot of tea.”

“‘Ow come you di’n’t tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?” Stan asked as he and Ernie brought in Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage. Both were staring at Harry, Stan with excitement and Ernie with curiosity.

“And a private parlor, please, Tom.”

Harry said his goodbyes to the Knight Bus employees, Stan continuing to call him Neville, before following the minister to a small parlor down a hall.

Fudge paused before they entered and sent the dog a nervous look. “Perhaps your pet can stay out here while we talk.”

Harry considered correcting the minister’s assumption, but considering the stray stepped closer to him protectively at just that moment, he didn’t think the man would believe him anyways.

“I can take care of him for you, Mr. Potter. Get him fed and watered while you talk with the minister,” Tom offered.

Harry nodded, briefly wondering how long it had been since the poor hound had gotten a proper meal. Probably a while considering how it perked up at the idea of food. “Thank you. I can pay-”

“No need. The ministry will take care of it, Mr. Potter,” Fudge said, slipping into the parlor. “Come now.”

Harry watched the reluctant dog be led away before following him in. One confusing and curious conversation later and Harry was led upstairs to room eleven. Inside the stray was in the corner happily stripping the meat off what appeared to be his third turkey leg while a familiar owl watched him reproachfully from her perch atop the dresser.

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.”

Harry gaped at the woman, his mouth slowly twitching into a smile. He was barely able to keep down a snort as he said, “What?”

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” she cried, clearly underwhelmed by his reaction. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen -- the worst omen -- of death!”

Harry bit his lip to hold in a snicker. That is, until he noticed everyone, bar Hermione, staring at him like the professor had just announced he had a terminal illness. There was no holding his laughter back then.

“My dear, this is no laughing matter!” the professor announced, looking scandalized.

Harry tried to calm down enough to explain, but just at that moment, Hermione peaked over Trelawney's shoulder. “I don’t think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

The professor glared at her. “You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.”

Seamus Finnigan leaned over to look, moving his head back and forth. He squinted his eyes and said, “It looks like a Grim if you do this, but,” he shifted to the left, “it looks more like a donkey from here.”

“I, uh, I think Ron was right. It does look kind of like a sheep,” Neville added.

“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” Professor Trelawney said, her voice coming out slightly clipped even as she tried to keep up her misty quality. "Yes… please pack away your things…”

“What was that about? The grim is serious, Harry!” Ron hissed once they were out of the room and on their way to Transfiguration.

“I’ll explain it to you guys after Care for Magical Creatures. You’ll have to see it to get it.”

Ron seemed to disagree, but Hermione nodded so the group continued on to the class, wherein his classmates appeared to be more interested in throwing him pitying glances instead of listening to McGonagall’s lecture.

“Really, what has got into you all today?” the teacher asked after she transformed back from a cat into a human. “Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation’s not got applause from a class.”

Everyone looked at Harry, but Hermione raised her hand and said, “Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and-”

“Ah, of course. There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?”

Everyone stared at her.

“Me.”

“I see.” With that the professor broke into what normally would have been considered a rant against her fellow teacher, had she not continued to cut herself off every time she started to speak bad about the other woman which all ended in her assuring Harry that if he did die, he need not hand in his homework.

Both Hermione and Harry laughed, though the others didn’t look nearly so comforted.

In the great hall, Hermione tried to talk Ron around as she pushed a bowl of stew towards him. “Ron, cheer up. You heard what Professor McGonagall said.”

He put some of the stew onto his plate, but didn’t start eating. Instead he quietly asked, “Harry, you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?”

Harry snickered around his mouthful of roll as he tucked a couple chicken legs into a napkin then stuck them in his book bag.

Hermione looked like she was going to object to his odd actions, but was distracted by Ron’s exclamation of, “Harry, seriously, if you’ve seen a Grim, that's-that's bad. My-my uncle Bilius saw one and-and he died twenty-four hours later!"

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

“They should fire him straight away!” Pansy Parkinson sobbed.

“It was Malfoy's fault!” Dean Thomas shot back, which caused Crabbe and Goyle to start flexing threateningly.

Harry grabbed his friends’ arms before they could get too far and started leading them around back closer to Hagrid’s hut.

“Where’re we going?” Ron asked.

“I told you I’d explain why I laughed about the Grim.”

“Why shouldn’t you have? The idea’s completely ridiculous,” Hermione sniffed before giving the castle a nervous glance. “D’you think he’ll be all right?”

Grateful for the change of topic before the two could start bickering again, Harry said, “’Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second.”

Ron’s annoyance quickly faded into worry and he said, “That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class, though, wasn’t it? Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him… Where’re we going anyways?”

“We’re not going into the forest, right?” Hermione asked as they came to it’s edge.

“No, here’s fine,” Harry said, stopping. Before the two could say anything else, he put his fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle.

Ron jumped and scrambled back. “Blimey Harry, what are you doing? Who knows what could have heard you and come calling!”

Harry glanced back at him and realized the arachnophobe was probably reliving their last adventure in the woods, given his terrified expression. Hermione looked similarly nervous, but not to the same degree. He gave his friends a smile before turning back to the woods. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who’s coming?”

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of paws pounding against the forest floor before Harry’s stray came bounding out of the trees.

Ron let out a high pitched scream.

Harry smiled at the dog and patted its head before turning to his friends. Hermione was gaping while Ron seemed to have tripped over himself as he was sitting on the ground, shaking.

“Guys, this is Grim.”

“The Grim,” Ron whimpered.

“You have a dog?” Hermione asked, coming closer and holding out her hand.

The hound looked the two up and down before giving a nod and turning to nose at Harry’s bag.

Hermione gave a frown at the odd behavior, but Harry didn’t notice.

As he pulled the chicken legs he’d grabbed earlier out to give to Grim, he explained, “No, I mean not technically. He’s a stray. I found him after I left the Dursleys’. We hung out some at Diagon Alley, but there’s no way I could have kept him. I don’t think dogs are allowed at Hogwarts, are they? And besides, I’ve already got Hedwig. And the Dursleys already complain about her so you know they’d throw a fit if I brought him home. I had been thinking about asking Hagrid to take him, I figured he’d like a friend for Fang, but then Grim just disappeared a little over a week ago. I hadn’t seen him after that until I spotted him running across the grounds this morning from the dormitory window.”

“The Grim,” Ron whimpered again.

“Just Grim actually. I named him after the omen. I saw a picture of it on a book in Flourish and Blotts when I went to get my books and I thought the resemblance was astounding. He liked it too once I explained what the Grim was so it stuck. I think he thought it was funny,” Harry said, remembering the wheezing, laugh-like bark the hound had given.

“You’re sure he’s not a Grim?” Ron said, eyeing the dog as he slowly rose to his feet.

“He looks like an Irish Wolfhound,” Hermione hummed, kneeling a safe distance away from the eating dog. “Mixed with something, maybe. I’m not sure.”

“He’s not a Grim,” Harry confirmed.

“It’s odd that he just showed up like this though. Maybe he’s part crup? If he is and he latched onto you that might explain it. He’s awfully big though.”

Harry just shrugged. He didn’t really know enough about dogs to know what was weird behavior and what wasn’t. The only other dogs besides Grim that he had spent time around were Aunt Marge’s evil bulldogs and they certainly liked chasing Harry everywhere he went so why wouldn’t Grim.

“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione sniffled. “I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him-”

“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” Ron continued for her. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…”

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him… about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

“Oh, Grim!” Hermione said out of nowhere.

“Grim?” Harry asked.

“Yes, we spotted him trying to sneak into the school after the match when we were trying to make it through the crowd. He was so upset. He must have known what happened.”

Harry nodded. “I saw him watching.”

“We had to promise him that we’d come back and tell him how you were doing just to get him to stay hidden outside. I better go before he tries again.” Hermione didn’t move though.

“Go on, I’m fine. The last thing we need is someone spotting him. Especially Lavender or Parvati.”

Hermione snorted before patting his hand and finally turning to leave.

The boys watched her go then Harry turned to Ron. He cast about for something new to say before settling on, “Did someone get my Nimbus?”

Ron was not happy about having to be the one to break the news and made that very clear to Hermione when she returned.

Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Wood, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different makes. He had been riding one of the school brooms at team practice, an ancient Shooting Star, which was very slow and jerky; he definitely needed a new broom of his own.

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, all three of them wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned towards Hagrid’s hut, intending to visit with Grim. He checked that Hagrid wasn’t in before sitting on the garden wall and whistling for the dog.

A moment later he heard footsteps, but from the wrong direction. He turned to see the Weasley twins shuffling towards him.

“What are you doing? How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?” he asked.

“We wanted to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” Fred started.

“Except you never showed,” George finished. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just… wanted some fresh air.”

“That’s a lie,” Fred scoffed.

“But we’ll allow it.”

“For now at least. Besides, we’ve got bigger things to talk about.”

Harry stared on first in incredulity, then in awe as the twins showed off the Marauder’s Map before turning it over to him.

Harry was tracing the secret passage he’d have to take, debating with himself, when padded footsteps and a cheerful bark announced Grim’s presence.

He looked up and smiled as the dog walked up to the garden wall. “There you are. Took you long enough. You weren’t hiding from the twins were you?”

Grim cocked his head to the side.

“Yeah, probably not. I’d bet they’d get a kick out of you though. They’re mischief makers. They’d probably set up some prank that involved making half the school think you actually were your namesake or something.”

Grim practically fell over as he gave his bark-laugh.

Harry chuckled as well and dug into his pockets to pull out the sausages he’d nabbed from breakfast for the hound.

At the smell of food, Grim came closer, tail wagging. He paused though as he caught sight of the map draped over the garden wall.

“Cool, huh. The twins gave it to me for Christmas. We’ll actually need to cut this short. I’m going to use it to sneak out and meet Hermione and Ron in Hogsmeade.”

The stray didn’t seem to be listening though, his focus solely on the map. He even rose up onto his hind legs and set his forepaws on the wall so he could get a better look.

Harry frowned at the odd behavior, but shrugged it off. Grim was weird. Instead he tapped the title at the top. “You know, Padfoot wouldn’t have been a bad name for you, huh? I still think Grim’s better though.”

That at least got a snort out of the dog, but he still didn’t look away from the map until a minute later when he gave a small whine. He set his paw on the map and turned to Harry. When Harry didn’t do anything he looked down at the map, then back at the boy.

Curious, Harry leaned over and looked at where his paw was resting. Half the paw was over a hallway and half was in the staffroom. One of his claws, though, was pointing at the room’s only occupant that Harry could see.

“Lupin? He’s our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Grim watched him for a beat, two, then suddenly he was racing across the grounds towards the castle, map clenched in his teeth.

“Grim, wait, stop! What are you doing?” Harry shouted, taking chase. He followed him through the slightly ajar front doors, up stairs, and passed empty corridors.

Harry thanked the heavens that it was the day of a Hogsmeade trip so the castle was emptier than usual. Harry didn’t know how he’d explain either the map or the dog if they were caught, let alone both!

When Grim darted into a classroom Harry prayed that it was empty before following. Once inside, he noticed that not only was it empty, it was also the classroom where the very man they had been discussing before taught. He quickly shrugged that off in favor of latching onto Grim’s neck. He grabbed the map, but quickly let it go again in fear of ripping it.

“Grim knock it off. Let it go. Come on, we need to get you back to the forest. Stop!”

“Harry?”

Both dog and boy froze before turning to the door to see Remus Lupin walking in. He froze at the sight of them, going pale.

Harry immediately let the dog go and stood up straight. “Professor, I can explain!”

“Harry, get over here, right now,” Lupin urged, still staring at the dog.

Harry’s eyes widened as the professor pulled his wand. He stepped in front of Grim and held up his hands. “Wait, it’s okay. Grim’s… well he’s not mine, but he’s not dangerous.”

“Harry-”

“I’m serious. He’s kind of protective, but he’s never even so much as growled at me since I found him this summer.”

“Th-this summer?” Lupin’s wand was still raised, but he looked more confused as he approached.

Harry nodded. “I know he’s pretty big and kind of scary -- I think Ron’s still half convinced he’s a Grim -- and he’s not actually supposed to be at Hogwarts, but that’s not really my fault. He just showed up! Hermione thinks he might be part crup, which makes him super loyal to wizards or something. So he won’t hurt anyone! He’s been here all year and no one’s even seen him until now. I-”

Lupin sucked in a breath and grabbed Harry’s arm, yanking the boy behind him before Harry could stop him.

“He’s not a crup.”

“Prof-”

“He’s an Animagus.”

Harry opened his mouth to object, but then Grim set down the map and stood up. And kept standing up until he shifted into an emaciated man with long matted black hair.

“That’s…” Harry mumbled, staring into the face of Sirius Black.

“Stay back,” Lupin said, though Harry couldn’t tell if he was talking to him or the criminal.

Black gave the professor a smile as he picked up the map. “Remus.”

“Don’t. Harry, go get McGonagall. She should still be in the staffroom.”

Harry took half a step back, but his confusion held him in place.

“No!” Black stepped towards the two, but quickly retreated when Remus raised his wand. “I’ve waited too long. He’s here. He’s HERE!”

“I’m not letting you kill Harry!”

Black started shaking his head and held out the map. “He’s here! I’ve found him!”

“You found me months ago,” Harry said, pointing out what was bemusing him so much.

“Harry, go!”

“He’s here, Moony! See, look, he’s here! I’ve found him! Wormtail!”

“Peter’s dead!” Lupin snapped, looking furious. “You killed him!”

“I meant to,” Black growled and bared his teeth in a way that made him look more like Grim, “but little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though! He’s here! Look! In Gryffindor Tower!” He threw the map at Lupin’s feet.

The professor slowly reached down and picked up the map, his eyes and wand never leaving Sirius. He shook it out and held it up so he could look at it while keeping Black in view. Black seemed to quickly leave his mind though as he turned his full focus onto the map and surprise filled his face. “That’s impossible.”

Harry stepped closer to see the map. The area Lupin was focused on was the same tower Black had been talking about. He didn’t understand Lupin’s reaction until he noticed a presence within Harry’s otherwise empty dormitory.

Peter Pettigrew

Harry frowned, not recognizing the name and wondering why they were in his dorm.

“He’s here! He faked his death and has been hiding like the rat he is! He’s been here, Remus! Near Harry! I have to kill him! I will kill him!”

“Kill who? What’s going on?” Harry shouted, but the two ignored him.

“But then,” Lupin muttered, turning to Black, “why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless…” The professor’s eyes went wide and unfocused. “Unless he was the one -- unless you switched -- without telling me?”

Eyes on him, Black nodded slowly.

“Professor,” Harry interrupted loudly, “what's going on?”

Before he could say more, Lupin lowered his wand, walked up to Black, and pulled him into a hug.

Harry was, officially, completely lost.

TFW you misspell serious as Sirius when writing "The grim is serious, Harry!" and just... Well yes Ron, but you shouldn't know that.

#Harry Potter #Sirius Black #prisoner of azkaban

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