It was nighttime at Hogwarts, going to the boys' dormitory.

All the boys were asleep. All except Harry, who lies in bed, studying the photo of his parents, barely visible in the fluttering light of a guttering candle. As the FLAME DIES with a soft HISS, all goes BLACK.

A hulking, haunted goliath against the sky. A cautious breeze rises. Leaves scud across the gravel. A church. Empty. Silent.

A windowpane rattles, up high, the corridor thatched in shadow.

Slowly... Creeping forward...

A shadow engulfs Sir Cadogan, dozing against his tree.

A WHISTLE SHRIEKS. The Sneakoscope, whirling madly, skitters across the bedside cabinet and taps against a WATER GLASS, sending shafts of RED LIGHT pinwheeling over the photo of Harry's parents.

Ron: Aaaahhhh!

Harry BOLTS UP and sees a SILHOUETTE etched on the window a MAN CLUTCHING A KNIFE. All the boys are up now.
Screaming. Amid the chaos, Harry grabs his wand.

Harry: Everybody out!

The others flee. Harry faces the HULKING SHADOW, wand poised.

Harry: Show yourself!

The glass shatters as water appears on the floor and Scabbers darts past Harry's bare feet, chased by Crookshanks.

Seizing the moment, the silhouette grasps the curtains and swings through the open window, plunging into the night.

Harry sweeps Ron's curtains aside. His bed is... empty.

Harry: Ron! Ron!

Harry's eyes flash toward the window when Ron pokes his head out from under the bed.

Ron: Is he gone?

The entire Gryffindor House, in pajamas, stands before McGonagall wearing a TARTAN ROBE and an expression of singular irritation.

Professor McGonagall: That's preposterous, Weasley. How could Sirius Black possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?

Ron: I don't know how he got in! I was a bit busy dodging his knife!

Just then, a curiously content Crookshanks wends his way through Ron's legs.

Ron: And this bloody cat ate my rat!

Hermione: That's a lie!

Ron: It is not and you bloody well know it!

Professor McGonagall: Silence!

McGonagall turns then and everyone follows her eye to Sir Cadogan who, sensing the attention, perks up instantly.

Professor Dumbledore: Sir Cadogan. Is it possible that you let a mysterious man enter the Gryffindor Tower tonight?

Sir Cadogan: Certainly, good lady! He had the password. Had the whole week. On a little piece of paper.

Professor McGonagall: Which abysmally foolish person wrote down the passwords and then proceeded to lose them?

Every eye shifts once more: Neville. McGonagall sighs.

Professor McGonagall: Is it always going to be you, Longbottom?

Neville: I'm afraid so, ma'am.

Professor McGonagall: [to the group at large] While we know Sirius Black is gone tonight, I think you can safely assume he will, at some future time, attempt to return. Let me be clear. You are not to move about the castle alone. And you are not to write down the password! Understood!

A collective nod of the head. McGonagall gives the ties of her robe, a sharp tug, collects herself, and exits.

Professor McGonagall: Very well then. Go to bed.

As the students drift off, Ron casts a last angry glance toward Hermione, who now holds Crookshanks in her arms.

Harry: I could've killed him.

Hermione turns and sees Harry staring out the window.

Harry: He was right there. Close enough to touch. I could've killed him.

Harry, Matthew, Ron, and Hermione walk into the courtyard leading to the Covered Bridge in their causal clothes.

Hermione: Beautiful day.

Ron: Gorgeous. Unless, of course, you've been ripped to pieces!

Harry: Ripped to pieces? What are you talking about?
Hermione: Ronald has lost his rat.

Ron: I haven't lost anything! Your cat killed him!

Hermione: Rubbish.

Ron: Harry, you've seen the way that bloodthirsty beast of hers is always lurking about. And Scabbers is gone!

Hermione: Well, maybe you should learn to take better care of your pets!

Crookshanks climbs onto one of the stone walls behind them as they walk onto the Covered Bridge.

Ron: Your cat killed him!

Hermione: Did not!

Ron: Did.

Hermione: Didn't.

They meet up with Hagrid as he is skipping rocks at the lake.

As he turns, the quartet catches a brief sight of his eyes, red with tears, then he looks away.

Hermione: How'd it go, Hagrid? The hearing?

Hagrid: Well, first off, the Committee members took turns talking about why we were there. [throws another rock bouncing across the lake] Then, I got up and did my piece. Said how Buckbeak was a good hippogriff, and always cleaned his feathers. And then, Lucius Malfoy got up. Well, you can imagine, he said Buckbeak was a deadly and dangerous creature who would kill you as soon as look at you.

Matthew: [as Hagrid skips another rock] And then?

Hagrid: Then he asked for the worst, did old Lucius.

Ron: [obviously outraged] They're not sacking you?!

Hagrid: No, I'm not sacked. [skips yet another rock, then speaks with his voice breaking] Buckbeak's been sentenced to death!

Hagrid furiously throws his last rock in the water with a loud splash and sniffles; behind him, Harry stands up, shocked by the sound of these words; he, Ron, Matthew, and Hermione walk up to the water's edge as Hagrid lets out a sad sigh.

Dark. Ominous. Dementors drift in the distance. Restless... Silent. A room is shadows. While those around him slumber, Harry lies awake, unable to sleep. Finally, he turns to his cupboard and takes the Marauder's Map.

Harry: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

The crooked corridors and serpentine passageways of Hogwarts radiate across the parchment, then... a TINY DOT catches Harry's eye. He frowns. It reads: "Peter Pettigrew.

Harry moves down a DARK corridor, map in hand, WAND AGLOW. In the PAINTINGS he passes, the subjects SNORE SOFTLY.

"Harry Potter" and "Peter Pettigrew" draw closer and closer. Harry squints toward the end of the corridor. Down at the map. Pettigrew moves quickly down the adjoining
corridor.

Twenty yards away. Ten. Only seconds away... Wand trembling in his hand, Harry glances from the map to the dark corridor ahead, again and again. Then... as the two DOTS are about to collide... he looks slowly up... turns the corner... a heartbeat in his chest... and meets... himself.

Reflected in a mirror. He blinks, startled, then glances back down at the map. Pettigrew has moved past him. Confused, Harry reels in his wand and casts a spell along with the walls.

VOICE (O.S.)
Watch it there, boy!

Harry JUMPS. But it's only an OLD MAN in a PAINTING, scowling in the glare of Harry's wand light. On the map, "Pettigrew" continues to move away. Harry makes to follow, then stops. HEARS FOOTSTEPS. The WAND'S SPOT dances across the parchment and finds another DOT. Approaching FAST: "Severus Snape."

Harry: Mischief managed!

Harry stashes the map, extinguishes his wand, and turns... Into the harsh glare of Snape's wand.

Snape: Potter. What're you doing wandering the corridors at night?

Harry: I was... I was... sleepwalking...

A sneer curdles the corners of Snape's lips.

Snape: How extraordinary like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle-.

Harry: My dad didn't strut. Nor do I. Now, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate you lowering your wand.

Snape eyes Harry coldly. Containing himself. Lowers his wand.

Snape: Turn out your pockets. [Harry doesn't move, eyes still boring into Snape] Turn out your pockets!

Finally, Harry obliges. Seeing the map, Snape's eyes glitter.

Snape: And this. What might it be?

Harry: Spare a bit of parchment...

Snape: Really? [Points his wand] Reveal your secret!

To Harry's horror, words begin to appear. Snape studies him, a sadistic half-smile on his lips. Turns the map his way.

Snape: Read it.

Harry: "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs offer their compliments to Professor Snape and-"

Snape: Go on.

Harry: "-And requests that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

Snape: Why you insolent little --

Professor Lupin: Professor?

Snape turns, seeing Lupin standing in the shadows.

Snape: Well, well. Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?

Professor Lupin: Harry? You alright?

Snape: That remains to be seen. I've just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin. This is supposed to be your area of
expertise.

Lupin takes the parchment, which now displays a rather unflattering caricature of Snape and a pair of potions.

Snape: Clearly, it's full of Dark Magic.

Professor Lupin: I seriously doubt that, Severus. It looks to me as if it merely insults anyone who tries to read it. I suspect it's a Zonko product. Nevertheless, I shall pursue any hidden qualities it may possess. As you say, it's my area of expertise. Come, Harry.

Harry does as told and walks aside a fuming Lupin, who grips the map fiercely.

Professor Lupin: I don't know how this map came to be in your possession, Harry, but I'm astounded that you didn't turn it in. Did you ever stop to think that this in the hands of Sirius Black is a map to you?

Harry walks silently. Lupin can barely contain his anger.

Professor Lupin: Your father didn't set much store by rules either. But he and your mother did give their lives to save yours. Gambling their sacrifices by walking about the castle unprotected, with a killer on the loose, strikes me as a poor way to repay them. I won't cover up for you again, Harry.

Lupin enters his office, tosses the map on his desk, and begins to sort through some papers. Harry lingers briefly in the doorway, absently eyes the WAXING MOON that glimmers beyond the window then starts to turn away. Stops.

Harry: Professor. Just so you know, I don't think the map always works. Earlier, it showed someone in the castle. Someone I know to be dead.

Professor Lupin: [only half-listening] And who was that, Harry?

Harry: Peter Pettigrew.

Lupin hesitates ever-so-slightly, then returns to his papers.

Professor Lupin: Very well. I'd like you to return to your dormitory now. Oh, and Harry? Don't take any detours.

As Harry looks back, Lupin taps the map.

Professor Lupin: If you do, I'll know.

End of Chapter 27