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Something Black In The Woods


“I don’t understand!” Sirius said, practically pulling his hair out as he pooled over Releasing The Animagus Within. “We did everything the ruddy book says to do and the most we can get is a couple prongs up on Potter’s head.”

James was sitting on the little couch in the tent with his two horns on his head, balanced against the back of the couch as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d made them appear and disappear about a hundred times during the night, but no matter how many times he said the spell, he couldn’t get anything more than the two antlers to change.

“Maybe James is only half a buck,” Peter suggested. “Like the centaurs are only half horses?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” James said sleepily.

Sirius wrapped his fingers up in his hair. “There’s got to be something here that’ll explain it. There has got to be. We had to have missed a step or something.” He sighed in frustration and started the book over for the hundredth time in the past sixteen or so hours.

“It’s like McGonagall said, mate,” James murmured, “We didn’t take the time to learn the theory of it. There’s probably something stupid that we’re overlooking and we’ll never know it on account that we don’t know the bloody theory.” He sighed.

Sirius refused to give up, though, “I’ll find it if I have to read this book cover to cover everyday for the rest of my life,” he said stubbornly.

Peter nibbled on the crackers Charlus had packed them.

James’s eyes sank closed. They hadn’t slept at all because of the anti-climatic ending to three months worth of work. Sirius especially couldn’t let it go. “The Draught was perfect,” he murmured, “Every step of the way it did exactly like it should. And the bottles weren’t damaged or shaken - right James?”

“I kept exceptional care of them,” James mumbled, “Not a single jolt or shake.”

Peter slowed on his inhalation of the crackers. “So what if they were shaken?” he asked. “What’s that matter?”

“Dunno, something about the way the bicorn horn blended with the boomslang or something, I dunno, it just says it underlined a couple times in the text that it shouldn’t be shaken, especially after the mandrake leaves are added in.”

Peter put down the box of crackers, wiping his fingers on his pants, feeling a bit of a panic rise up in his belly. “Yeah but that wouldn’t keep it from working at all… would it?”

Sirius shrugged, “Have I mentioned that I’m not an expert in this?”

James yawned, “You might’ve mentioned it a time or two - or seven - or fifty.”

Peter decided then and there they could never, ever, ever, ever find out that he’d fallen over with the potions in his clutches in the tent. Especially not because of the marshmallows that they’d kept making fun of him for eating. This needed to be quickly pegged as James’s fault. Sirius would forgive James, Peter knew that much - there wasn’t a thing on earth James could do that Sirius wouldn’t forgive him for, he bet. But him - Peter - well that was a different story. Neither of them would forgive him for much of anything. Remus might but Remus wasn’t a part of all this and he was sure Sirius and James meant more to Remus even than he did. He had to build himself a little hedge of protection to keep them from deducing that it was his fault the potion hadn’t worked somehow.

“Well James kept them in his book bag that first day and a bunch of days after that and all the way home from Hogwarts,” Peter pointed out, “Surely they got shaken then.”

James looked over, “I didn’t shake them Peter, they were wrapped up in socks and scarves and all sorts of things to keep them safe.”

“Just the general movement of the bag could’ve done it,” Peter pointed out. “Obviously it’s your fault they’ve been shaken up.”

James tapped his wand to his nose, “Muture magus humanus,” he murmured and with a crack the horns he’d had disappeared and he sat up quickly to look over at Peter. “Hey now, why are you pointing fingers at me? It could’ve been any of us that shook them during the last month at school, we had them in all our separate trunks. If you notice my potion is working better than yours.”

“Sirius’s isn’t working either!” Peter said quickly, defensively.

“Stop fighting you lot,” Sirius interrupted, “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or any of that, alright? I don’t really care. I just want to fix it as quickly as possible. We’ve gone and told Remus that we’re working on something and told him we’d tell him after summer, so we need to bloody get this working as quick as possible! This is why I didn’t want to include him in on this at all…”

James sighed and laid down across the couch, “Can’t we please take a nap at least first and then we’ll figure it out much better with our brains fully functional?”

Sirius shook his head, “I’m not sleeping until I figure it out. You can though.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He hastened to go get his pyjamas.

James closed his eyes. “Maybe we’re pronouncing the spell wrong,” he murmured.

Sirius doubted it. He stared down at the book, certain there was something he was overlooking…




Early morning sunlight glowed through the room of the tent. Sirius stretched, having fallen asleep on the floor by the table, where he’d been up reading all night. His spine felt stiff in that I-didn’t-sleep-in-bed sort of way and he moved his head side to side to stretch his neck, eyes still closed against the sunlight.

He could smell something funny, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He sniffed the air a bit, moving his nose to follow the smell, which seemed to be moving and alive. He opened his eyes and looked around. The tent was just so bright, he could hardly see - it all seemed strangely pale. But that smell, though… man, that smell was strong…

He heard a twig crack and spun his head about to look at the doorway of the tent, listening, heart racing.

He leaped up and rushed to the door of the tent without really thinking about it, bursting through to the leaves and looking around the trees. There wasn’t anything out there that could’ve made the sound… unless something (or someone) was hiding somewhere ‘round the tent? He sniffed the air… the ground… moving slowly into the trees, searching… though he didn’t know what for. Just something.

“Sirius? Are you out here?” James’s voice was loud, even though Sirius had wandered some way away through the trees.

“Is he out there?” Peter asked.

“I don’t see him. I thought I heard him go out, though.” James sighed. “He’s going mad over this stupid book. I dunno what to do. I wish it had worked.”

“Well, I mean, at least you can get your antlers,” Peter said, “I can’t do anything at all. What’s the secret to it? I want some antlers.”

“I dunno why I can,” James said.

Sirius stood between the trees, listening to them, his head cocked just a bit. Then he heard another snap in the trees behind him and he turned around quickly. A flash of something black caught his eyes and he hastened to turn again… and again… and again… Frustration started to build in him. He could see it, just out of the corner of his eyes, whatever it was, and it kept moving around him, hastening ot stay out of his sight. He decided to fake it out - turning the opposite direction than before but no - it was still there, still moving just out of sight.

“Show yourself!” he barked.

A loud sound cut through the trees, so close it seemed to have drowned out his own voice. The sound roused birds in the trees and they took off twittering through the air and shrieking in surprise, disturbing the leaves. Sure it was the black thing that had him turning in vicious circles, Sirius ran - afraid that he was running for his life - his feet kicking up leaves and moss and twigs as he bolted for the tent.

“THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE WOODS! SOMETHING IN THE WOODS!” he bellowed as he got closer to the tent, wanting to give a warning to James and Peter. Whatever the thing was, though, it was following him - the sound was following him, still drowning out his own voice.

James came out of the tent, ducking through the door, his eyes wide as Sirius broke through the tree line. He didn’t have his wand. “You bloody idiot! Get your wand!” Sirius yelled. Then he realized that he, too, could draw his own wand and he stopped and turned about and was about to reach for it when he realized -- he couldn’t.




Peter went outside, following after James, carrying his wand and James’s as well. He passed James his wand. “I didn’t know you had a dog,” Peter said, looking at the shaggy black dog that had just burst into the clearing.

“I don’t,” James answered.

“Then where’d he come from?” Peter asked.

James was staring at the big black dog with nervous eyes. Slowly, he leveled his wand at it.

“Stop that,” Peter snapped, “It’s a doggy.” The dog barked a string of panicked woofs, looking from Peter to James quickly. “Put your bloody wand down,” Peter said roughly, “You’re scaring it.” Quickly, Peter tucked his own wand into his pants pocket and hurried forward, “It’s okay, doggy,” he said, holding his palm out.

“Peter! Don’t touch it!” James said, “It might have rabies! You dunno where it’s been.”

But the dog had already pressed its nose into Peter’s palm and begun snorting and snuffling at him, his tail wagging behind him, paws lifting and dropping in the leaves in excitement. The dog seemed to shiver and shimmey and it jumped back from Peter quickly, agile, and dropped into a playful sort of bow. “See, he’s nice,” Peter said.

James lowered his wand warily, wishing Sirius hadn’t gone off and disappeared so he could lend a hand in assessing the situation with the dog, too. James watched as Peter started to play with the thing, getting down on his knees and making grrr noises at it and tug-of-warring with a stick. The dog’s tail flapped about excitedly. “Peter, we haven’t got time for this,” James said, suddenly very frustrated and angry and worried about Sirius. He grabbed another stick and waved it for the dog to see, “Here, go fetch. Get out of here.” He hucked the stick in the direction of the creek and watched as they dog bounded after it.

Peter looked sad.

“We gotta figure out where Sirius is,” James said.

Peter got up, dusting the dirt off his knees. “He can’t of gone too far,” he said diplomatically, “He’s probably just gone for a walk.”

“But he might’ve gotten lost,” James replied, “And I hate that he didn’t tell us. He could be anywhere. And like I said Dad’s seen lynx out here before, and I know we said there wasn’t a lot of stuff out here, but I dunno that! And Sirius is alone…”

Peter looked more concerned now. “You think he could’ve got eaten?” he asked.

“I dunno,” James replied. They could hear the dog splashing about in the creek bed just over the hill, probably still looking for the stick. James frowned. He lowered his voice, “That dog could belong to someone.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder, “It didn’t look well maintained, it looked sort of shaggy.”

“Doesn’t mean anything, some folks keep their dogs shaggy,” James replied. “It could be a Death Eater.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “But I thought your house was unplottable?”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean the land around it is,” James said quietly.

Peter shivered, suddenly quite worried, looking around, as though expecting the shadows to cough something up at any moment. He withdrew his wand from his pocket again, fist shaking about it.

“SIRIUS!?” James suddenly shouted and Peter ducked behind him. “SIRIUS!!!” James walked into the trees, Peter scrambling to stay by him.

“What’re you doing?” Peter squealed. “Shouting like that will only make them know we are here, too.”

”We gotta find him,” James said, determined. “SIRIUS?!?”

“S - S - Sirius?” asked Peter, his voice raspy and considerably quieter than James’s.

They were walking into the woods, away from the tent.

“SIRIUS?! Bloody hell mate, where are you?” James was getting legitimately worried now, the silence of the woods seeming more eerie than peaceful.

Peter let out a shriek behind him and James turned around just in time to see the black shaggy dog come bounding through the woods, soaking wet from the creek, tongue lolling about, and leap through the air. James raised his arms in defense as Peter ducked out of the way and the dog landed on James, knocking him backwards to the ground, it’s great big paws on his chest. The dog stood over him, dripping water all over him, soaking his pyjamas and staring down at him with it’s bright eyes. It shook and the water went spraying everywhere, pinging off the trees, soaking Peter, too, and James even more than it already had. James winced away as the dog then opened it’s great big mouth, with its long yellowed teeth, and horrible breath, and it’s huge pink tongue slopped across James’s face, sticky, slobbery drool sheening across his cheeks.

“Uggggh!” James groaned, “Uuuugh!”

The more he struggled against it, the more the dog did it, a barking laugh echoing in it’s throat.

James paused.

He’d never heard a dog laugh before.

He stopped wincing, lowering his arms, rolling to look up at the mangy thing. It stood above him, waiting, staring down at him, and he realized he recognized the eyes. There was a familiarity about the dog suddenly… and his eyes widened in shock as he stared up at it.

Sirius???” he gasped.

The dog answered by slobbering his big wet tongue across James’s face once more.