"No, hesitating doesn't suit me."
Carina Malfoy tossed her long hair back and rose from her seat.
Whether to tell Harry Potter what she knew about Sirius Black, or to say nothing at all.
The deliberation had stretched on, yet no answer had come. In situations like this, Malfoy knew of a far better option than agonizing endlessly.
"Better to pick one and commit than to keep going back and forth. I'll meet Harry Potter during the Hogsmeade visit and settle this once and for all!"
At Malfoy's declaration, Crabbe and Goyle—who had been sitting nearby playing a card game—exchanged a look that said here we go and spoke up.
"You've finally made up your mind, then?"
"Are you asking him on a date? You, making the first move?"
"Wh-wh-wh-what?! That's absolutely absurd!"
Still on her feet, Malfoy swayed and shrieked.
"Who said that? Who's been spreading such ridiculous nonsense?"
"Well... technically, us?"
"You two are closer to me than anyone—you should know better! Harry Potter and I are sworn enemies. We could never mix!"
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other. With nothing but a glance, they reached a silent agreement to simply nod for now.
"But Malfoy, you spent three hours pressing your fingers to your forehead and staring into the fireplace."
"And after all that deliberation, the conclusion you reached is to meet Harry Potter in Hogsmeade... doesn't that seem a little suspicious?"
Admittedly, the brooding had gone on rather long and with unusual gravity. But that was entirely due to the gravity of the matter itself—not because she cared one whit about Harry Potter.
Malfoy gave a disdainful sniff.
"You two really are girls your age, aren't you. Watching you twist a few scattered facts into some kind of romance—honestly. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I have absolutely no interest in trivial affairs of the heart. Unlike some people."
"Crabbe, what do we do? Isn't this getting to be a bit much?"
"Just hold on a little longer, Goyle."
Crabbe and Goyle called upon every last reserve of their patience and endured.
"So what is it, then? If it's that important, why not just talk at school?"
"It's something no one else can hear. And it has to be Hogsmeade. That way, if things go sideways, I'll have room to maneuver."
Malfoy trailed off with a distant, wistful look in her eyes. Gray Goyle could hold back no longer.
"If you want a secret romance, just get a shared diary. Stop rubbing it in."
"Goyle!"
Crabbe clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Fortunately, however, Malfoy had been caught off guard once—she wasn't about to fall for the same trick twice.
"...Fine. I wasn't going to say this, but I'll tell you two, and only you two."
Malfoy flicked her wand and cast a spell.
"*Muffliato*."
"What's that?"
"A spell to keep sound from carrying outside. Father used it often."
For good measure, Malfoy bent forward so her lips couldn't be read either. Her long golden hair fell like a curtain, and Crabbe and Goyle leaned in with wide, curious eyes.
"I have some very important information for Harry Potter—. It concerns Sirius Black."
"Goodness, it really is important."
"I told you it was important, over and over again!"
Malfoy stamped her foot and cried out. Lately, her friends seemed to have grown rather impertinent.
"Anyway. I'm going to use this to negotiate with him. What exactly the information is—that's a secret."
"But Harry Potter isn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade, is he?"
"No, but he'll find a way. He always does."
Harry Potter had never once stopped himself from doing what he set out to do. It had been true in first year, and again in second. Armed with nothing but a wand and sheer nerve, he threw himself headlong into danger.
That was precisely why Malfoy had decided she needed to speak.
If he was going to go hunting for Sirius Black regardless, the least she could do was make sure he knew what he was walking into.
That would be the minimum mercy she could offer.
"...Hmm, Malfoy. Do you need any help?"
Crabbe ventured the question carefully.
"On the way to Hogsmeade, we could draw the others away? If the two of us are seen walking around with someone, people will assume it's you."
"That would be helpful."
She did need to avoid drawing attention, so it was a welcome offer. Malfoy secured their cooperation and waited for the next Hogsmeade visit.
The visit fell just before the Christmas holidays, and it was bitterly cold—cold enough that no one thought twice about Malfoy wearing a thick woolen hat.
Walking alongside her, Crabbe and Goyle rounded a corner at a certain point and made their way toward Daphne Greengrass. In that moment, Malfoy slipped quietly down a side street. With her hair tucked away and her collar turned up, no one recognized her.
She hadn't arranged a specific meeting time with Harry Potter. She had simply murmured "Shrieking Shack" as she passed him in the corridor. But Harry Potter had understood—he'd curled his fingers into a circle and raised it in the air.
Since no time had been set, she would have to arrive first and wait. Malfoy bundled herself up and stood before the Shrieking Shack, waiting for Harry Potter.
The cold was brutal. Even through her thick coat and hat, the frigid air cut straight to the skin.
She stood there with her collar raised, perfectly still, when she heard someone pass by and snicker, "Here alone?"
She wanted to spin around and snap at them on the spot, but she barely managed to restrain herself. Malfoy fixed her thoughts on the inconsiderate person making her wait and held her ground.
Then, in the distance, she spotted a black dog.
The same dog she had seen at Hogwarts before. There couldn't be another dog that scrawny in all of Scotland.
"...What on earth is that creature doing all the way out here."
It had eaten a whole chocolate bar, yet it still looked as though it hadn't had a meal in weeks. Malfoy stared at it with a flat expression, then turned and made her way to the Three Broomsticks.
She returned with a Butterbeer and a roasted chicken leg. The black dog was still there, holding its post.
Malfoy spoke loudly, as if to no one in particular.
"I needed something to warm me up anyway, it's absolutely freezing. Butterbeer is excellent for that. I simply happened to pick up a chicken leg while I was there."
The dog sat and watched her without moving. It couldn't possibly understand, Malfoy muttered to herself, and set the chicken leg down.
"Eat it or don't. I'm not so lacking in dignity that I'd stand outside gnawing on a chicken leg like some sort of animal."
The dog gave her a look that seemed to say what are you on about. Malfoy thought there might be some truth to the idea that dogs had expressions after all.
Regardless, the dog caught the scent of the chicken leg, nosed the wrapping aside, and tore into it with evident satisfaction.
Malfoy watched the ravenous creature eat until Harry Potter arrived.
"Well. I don't particularly care what happens to some stray dog, but it's a passable way to kill time."
She was just thinking she wouldn't mind keeping one, when—
"Oh, a dog!"
"Is it a stray?"
"It's eating a chicken leg? That dog eats better than we do!"
A group of students came clattering over, loud and boisterous. Malfoy knew instinctively what they were about to do.
They had the look of troublemakers. They'd poke at the dog, most likely. Whether it ran off or turned on them, neither outcome would be particularly pleasant to witness.
But she had no desire to step in and make a scene over a dog, however noble the impulse.
Malfoy sipped her Butterbeer and watched to see what they would do.
"Hey, hey—good, is it?"
The students picked up a long stick and began to close in. The dog, still working on the chicken leg, let out a low growl.
But the students, wands in hand, didn't seem particularly threatened.
"What are you going to do, bark? We could hang you upside down if we wanted..."
The standoff dragged on. If this continued, it was going to end badly.
She didn't want to get involved—but Malfoy had to stay here until Harry Potter arrived. Drawing unnecessary attention was the last thing she needed.
Just as Malfoy took a step forward—
[SCREEEEEEEEEEEK!]
A shriek rang out from somewhere near the Shrieking Shack. The students jumped out of their skins.
"Wh-what was that?!"
"A ghost?"
"The Shrieking Shack is haunted, but—it's the middle of the day!"
[Hee-hee-hee, kee-kee-kee, KRAAAAAAK!]
The unearthly wailing came again, and the students shrank back in terror.
*Whoosh.* A volley of mud came flying from somewhere and splattered across them—aimed with uncanny precision at their faces and robes.
"Aaagh!"
"It's a ghost!"
The students fled, hands clapped over their faces. Malfoy stood with her arms folded, watching them scramble away in undignified panic.
Then a small, thin little shriek sounded right beside her ear.
[Kee-hee—.]
"That's enough. Come out, Potter."
"Oh?"
Harry Potter pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. He was grinning his usual grin, forehead bare, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"How did you know it was me?"
"As if I wouldn't recognize that insufferable, flippant voice of yours. Making that kind of ridiculous scene in front of everyone—if it had been me, I'd have been too mortified to show my face."
"Why be mortified? No one knows what I did."
"*I* know."
"And what's wrong with letting you see?"
Harry Potter held out a Button Warmer. It was sold at Zonko's Joke Shop—a magical little warmer that, when clipped to a coat button, spread warmth through the entire body.
Malfoy raised her collar to hide the corner of her mouth.
"Hmph. So you do have something resembling taste after all."
"You worked hard waiting out here. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to buy one of these while wearing an Invisibility Cloak?"
"If you had time to go shopping, you could have simply arrived earlier. I waited ages. Why were you so late—wait."
Malfoy paused mid-clip, something clicking into place, and her brow furrowed.
He'd had enough time to buy a Button Warmer. And the moment she had been about to step in, he'd mimicked the ghost's shriek.
That meant Harry Potter had already been there.
If he'd had time to go and buy the warmer, he must have been watching her shiver in the cold for quite some time.
Malfoy's voice went cold with fury.
"You made me wait? On purpose?"
"Ah—hold on. Don't misunderstand."
"Explain yourself clearly so there's no room for misunderstanding. I'll deal with your rudeness after that."
Malfoy fixed him with an icy stare. Harry Potter smiled with a trace of discomfort, then let out a small sigh and confessed.
"I had a prior engagement."
"Oh, did you."
"As it happened, our paths crossed at an awkward moment. Because of that, you ended up with the black dog instead of me... and the two of you just kept on together. I couldn't quite find the right moment to interrupt."
"Oh, really."
There was something almost human about the way he referred to the dog, but Malfoy was too preoccupied with the mention of a prior engagement to notice.
She stood with her arms folded, toying with the Button Warmer as though she might rip it off at any moment.
"And who, exactly, was this prior engagement with?"
"No one particularly important. Not compared to a date with you."
"Not you too?! Why does everyone's mind go straight there?!"
Malfoy let out a sharp cry. She released the Button Warmer and glared at Harry Potter, bristling.
"This is a serious matter. It concerns Sirius Black—information about him, no less."
In an instant, Harry Potter's expression shifted into something peculiar. The look of a person desperately trying not to laugh.
He glanced briefly behind him. The black dog was gnawing on the chicken bone, watching their exchange with apparent interest.
Malfoy drew herself up with an air of superiority.
"Potter. Do you know who Sirius Black is? He was a friend of your parents. Close enough that they trusted him with their most important secret—the one their lives depended on."
"Oh—ah. Is that so."
"Don't you wonder why someone that close ended up in Azkaban?"
"Wow, I really do wonder."
"Hmm. I happen to be in a position to tell you."
Harry Potter's responses were uniformly odd, but Malfoy, drunk on her own sense of superiority, failed to notice.
"Potter, if you want it, I'm willing to share that information. But there's a condition—. Give me back the diary."
"What?"
Harry Potter's face went cold in an instant. Malfoy swallowed involuntarily at the sight of it, but she refused to back down, lifting her chin once more.
"Yes. Surely that's only fair? This isn't just any information—it concerns your parents' enemy."
Harry Potter looked at the dog. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
Malfoy had been watching Harry Potter long enough to know what that meant.
The gesture of pushing his hair back—the way his fingers just barely grazed his scar.
It was something the endlessly carefree-seeming Harry Potter only did when he was being truly serious.
"Malfoy, I already know about Sirius Black. You may not realize it, but I do."
His voice was ten degrees colder than usual. Hearing it, Malfoy felt a chill settle over her despite the Button Warmer clipped to her coat.
Dementors? Malfoy had never quite believed that Dementors could bring Harry Potter to his knees.
A Dementor was nothing compared to Harry Potter when he was angry.
But still.
"I know enough! And I'm certain there's something I have that you don't—! If you want this information—!"
Her parents' lives were bound up in that diary. She doubted Harry Potter or Dumbledore would make it public carelessly, but it was better in the hands of the Malfoy family than to be used against them.
This was the moment. Malfoy steeled herself against her fear and pressed her offer forward—
"No. Not at all. You don't know anything."
Refused. Flatly, without hesitation.
Malfoy flinched. That wasn't bravado. That wasn't a bluff.
Harry Potter genuinely did not need what she was offering.
"I appreciate the thought, but this matter—"
He stopped mid-sentence and seemed to consider something.
"No. Actually. If you've come this far, I may as well tell you."
"Tell me—what?"
"What it is you don't know. Just this once. So after this, don't ever bring up the diary again. Not ever."
Harry's words were frighteningly absolute, and Malfoy took a step back without meaning to.
Harry's cold expression softened, just barely, with something like sorrow as he looked at her. Then he turned his gaze to the black dog and spoke.
"Sirius. I've wanted to see you. I'm sorry, but I need you to reveal yourself here."
*Woof. Woof.*
The dog barked, as if in answer.
Malfoy stared at Harry Potter attempting to hold a conversation with a dog, her expression one of pure disbelief.
Harry Potter paid her no mind and continued.
"It's all right. I have leverage over her. So please—come back as yourself."
"What are you—"
Malfoy broke off mid-sentence, her eyes going wide with shock as she stared at the dog.
The black dog abruptly dropped to its haunches, then rose onto two legs, raising its forepaws to sweep across its face. Its muzzle shortened, its hair grew longer, and in moments it had become a figure standing upright on two human feet.
Malfoy looked at the face.
The face she had seen every day in the Daily Prophet that summer.
A face that, with even a little care, might have been called strikingly handsome—but which now was nothing more or less than a gaunt, hollow-cheeked escaped convict.
That man stood before her now, in ragged clothes and an unkempt beard.
Harry Potter pointed to him.
"Allow me to introduce him."
An Animagus. A wizard who could transform into an animal.
The pieces fell into place. How he had escaped from Azkaban. How he had evaded the Ministry's pursuit.
Dementors fed on human emotion. That was why they served as Azkaban's guards—only human feeling could sustain them.
Sirius Black would have needed neither an inside contact nor a secret passage to enter Hogwarts. He had simply walked in as a dog.
Never mind the Grim. The identity of the great black dog that had appeared at the school—
It had been Sirius Black, transformed.
"This is Sirius Black. Escaped convict of Azkaban, my enemy—and, at the same time, my godfather."
Harry Potter made the introduction with perfect composure, as though presenting a man who had come to kill him were the most ordinary thing in the world.