Chronicles Of Arth: Prince Of Shadows

Harry lunged forward toward Ron when out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face. Arth saw Harry skid a few feet back and winced.

It seemed very painful.

"Lumos!" Harry whispered on the ground.

The wandlight showed them 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 backward and forward to stop them going nearer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backward 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 backward 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 from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight.

"I guess the Grim does exist." Said Arth with a sigh. "Poor Ron had to be a sacrifice in order for us to realize it though..."

"Arth, shut up. Harry — we've got to go for help —"

"No! That thing's big enough to eat him; we haven't got time —"

"Harry — we're never going to get through without help —"

"We should give up and leave Ron. The Grim has got him. There is no saving him now."

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.

Seeing Harry jump around like an idiot, Arthur couldn't help but sigh.

"You do realize that a dog is way more agile than a human right? Just because the dog did it doesn't mean we can."

"I don't care, I need to save Ron."

"Oh, help, help," Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, "please..."

Crookshanks darted forward. 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 —"

"You saw the grim before? How could you forget to mention this crucial piece of information! Are you an idiot?"

"I did tell you once, the time on the Knight bus. But you said it was a stray."

"You said you saw it with Crookshanks such means you saw it at school! Does that not ring an alarm?"

"Err... fair point actually. Saw it during my quidditch match too, you know, the one where I fell off."

"You dumbass idiot!"

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 bottlebrush tail. Harry went next; Arth went in third and Seconds later, Hermione slithered down beside them.

"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 gotten into it... It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..."

"Judging by the design of the tunnel," said Arth while inspecting the walls. "We might be heading to the shrieking shack, just a guess of course."

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.

They paused, everyone gasping for breath except Arth, edging forward. They 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.

Arth glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened but nodded and then to Harry.

Arthur 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 Arth's arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows.

"My god," she whispered, "I think we are in the Shrieking Shack."

Arth 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.

"That doesn't look too friendly." said Arth with a wry smile.

"Ghosts didn't do that," Harry said.

"No way. I really thought it could've been a ghost." Replied Arth sarcastically.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. All three of them looked up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on Arth's arm was so tight he was losing feeling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her; she blushed 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 toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low m.o.a.n, 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.

"So much for being sneaky..." said Arth with a sigh.

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 okay?"

"Where's the dog?"

"You mean the grim Harry, it's a grim."

"Not a dog, nor a grim," Ron m.o.a.n.e.d. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap —"

"What —"

"He's the dog... he's an Animagus..."

"Who is?"

Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder. Arth, Harry, and Hermione 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.