The evening of May 29th began just like any other. Harry choked down his supper in the dining hall and then headed to his room to rush through his homework, do his nightly exercises, and talk with Hassseth. In the middle of an explanation of how difficult it is for an adder to produce its venom, Hassseth suddenly stopped speaking and stared intently at a large crack in the wall, her tongue flicking in and out of her mouth at a dizzying rate.
"Wha-?" Harry's question was cut off by a sharp hiss from the snake.
"I smell a rat," Hassseth whispered.
"Of course you smell a rat," Harry whispered back. "You smell lots of rats; this place is full of them."
The serpent slowly shook her head. "This time I mean it in the human way, as well as my own. Rumor has it that there is a strange rat about - less trustworthy than most rats. Evil, even. They say that his right front paw is silver, and that he searches for the boy called Harry Potter. Be alert. No good can come of this."
Harry laughed nervously. "But it's just a rat. What can it do, unless it's carrying the plague and plans to infect me?"
"Do not underestimate the rat, Harry," Hassseth cautioned. "He may be more deadly than you realize." After a short pause, she added, "Wait here," and slithered into a nearby crack in the wall.
Five minutes went by, during which Harry sat in tense silence. In spite of his insistence that no rat could harm him, he couldn't help being put on edge by Hassseth's warning.
Suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and shifted his position on the floor to be able to see it better. The pointed nose of a rat was protruding from the large crack in the wall that Hassseth had been staring at only a few minutes ago. Cautiously, never ceasing to sniff the air, the rat emerged from the crack. As it stepped forward, Harry's breath caught in his throat; the rat's right front paw was a metallic silver color, almost as if it had been dipped into a bath of molten silver and hadn't yet had a chance to dry.
As the rat crept closer, Harry's body tensed and his heart began to pound. Suddenly, quick as lightning, Hassseth shot from her hiding place hissing a battle cry, and sank her long, white fangs into the center of the creature's back. Harry watched in morbid fascination as the rat, squealing in pain, began to swell - slowly at first, and then more rapidly. Initially, the swelling only caused Hassseth's jaw to unhinge, but it was soon necessary for her to release her hold, although she kept her fangs buried in the rat's flesh. Harry gasped and scrambled backward as, before his eyes, the rat transformed into a short, balding man in a dark gray robe, who bore a remarkable resemblance to the rat he had been only seconds before. The rat's squeals of pain changed to a scream.
Harry watched, frozen in horror, as the man reached back and closed his silver hand around Hassseth's diamond-shaped head, crushing it with the force of his grip.
"No!" Harry shouted, finally springing to his feet, but he knew it was too late - the rat-man was already yanking the small serpent's fangs from his lower back and flinging her lifeless body against the wall. Harry winced as his friend hit the floor in a twisted heap.
"Now, Harry, you will come with me," the little man said in a somewhat squeaky voice. "My master is looking forward to seeing you again." As he spoke, he drew a thin, polished stick from an inside pocket of his robe. Harry recognized it at once as a magic wand and, for the first time he could remember, he felt that he was at a disadvantage for not having one as well.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Harry growled. His initial wariness at the sight of the wand was quickly giving way to rage. This little man had killed Hassseth, and he was going to pay. "You're going to die here and now," Harry spat. He stood with his feet apart and his knees slightly bent, waiting for the short wizard to make the first move.
Extending his wand confidently, the rat-wizard said, "Stupefy."
Harry's hands shot forward as he yelled, "Protego!" conjuring an invisible shield and deflecting the attack.
The wizard paused for a moment - clearly he had not expected this - but then he began to fire a barrage of spells with such rapidity that it was all Harry could do to keep his shield in place.
Finally realizing that he was getting nowhere, Harry dove to his left, shouting, "Stupefy!" as he pointed at his enemy with both hands. The small wizard barely managed to erect a shield in time, and the force of Harry's spell caused him to stumble backward.
As soon as Harry got back to his feet, the rat-wizard spat, "Crucio!" Instinctively, Harry dove to his right to avoid the curse, somehow knowing that there would be no blocking that one.
"Incendio!" Harry shouted. The spell glanced off of the rat-wizard's shield, but still managed to ignite the hem of his robes. As he stamped out the flames, he suddenly twisted sideways and cried out in pain. He staggered to his right and fell against the wall, clutching it for support.
"Come with me, Harry," the rat-wizard pleaded in a voice completely devoid of its former confidence. "I don't want to hurt you. Imperio!"
There was no need to dodge; whatever it was, the spell went wide. "You killed Hassseth," Harry said accusingly, his voice shaking with anger. "And you know what? You killed yourself, too. You squeezed all of her stored venom into your veins, you stupid-"
"Reducto!" shouted the rat-wizard.
Harry sidestepped the curse. "Don't want to hurt me?" Harry asked incredulously. "I'm not stupid, rat; I know what that spell does."
"Diffindo!" yelped the rat-wizard.
Harry ducked and retaliated by yelling, "Reducto!" while aiming at the other man's knees. There was a sickening crunch as the bones splintered, and the rat-wizard collapsed to the ground, convulsing. He vomited, and his shaking intensified. Harry tried to look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the revolting scene before him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the rat-wizard's convulsions ceased and he lay still. Warily, Harry whispered, "Accio," and the rat-wizard's wand flew into his hand. His own lack of a wand had turned out not to be a liability after all. Nevertheless, he slipped the wand into the back pocket of his jeans and watched the rat-wizard's still body for signs of life. His chest neither rose nor fell. Cautiously, Harry approached him and placed two fingers on the fallen man's throat, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Hassseth's venom had done its work.
A sudden pounding on the door caused Harry to leap to his feet, his frazzled senses on alert. After preparing himself to curse the caller if necessary, he asked, in the calmest voice he could muster, "Who's there?"
"It's Tyler," came the reply. "Open up, Harry; I've been waiting outside for ages."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry muttered, "Alohomora," and the lock clicked open.
Tyler pushed the door open and froze. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes wide in shock.
Harry sank to the floor and leaned back against the cold stone wall. As tears finally began streaming down his face, he explained what had transpired as best he could.
When he had finished, Tyler exclaimed, "You've got to get out of here!"
"What? Why?"
"Two reasons," answered Tyler. "First, your friend Hermione said that a group of dark wizards were after you, not just one. There could easily be more of them about, and, sadly, you won't have your snake friend to help you a second time. Second, there's a dead man in your room. Trust me; you do not want to be here when the guard comes around in the morning."
"Where should I go?" Harry asked, the logic of his friend's suggestion succeeding at cutting through the haze of anger, revulsion and grief.
"Send Hedwig to Ron and Hermione and find out where they are. If you can't tell them where you are so they can come to you, then go to them instead." Harry didn't move. "Now! Go!" Tyler insisted.
"But what about you?"
Tyler shrugged. "I can take care of myself. Besides, I'd never fit in with a bunch of wizards. I belong here, with the other pickpockets and petty-thieves," he said with a wry smile. "Promise to keep in touch, though. If nothing else, I want to know if you ever find your dream girl."
Harry chuckled half-heartedly. "I promise." Getting to his feet, he emptied his schoolbag of everything but his letters, an empty notebook for paper, and several pens and pencils. Next, he stuffed most of his clothing into the space that had previously been occupied by books. Finally, he took an old shirt and reverently wrapped it around Hassseth's lifeless body. He carefully placed her into the top of the bag before closing the zipper.
"I'll give her a proper burial when I get wherever it is I'm going," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Tyler whispered. "I know I said a lot of bad things about her, but she really was all right. She sacrificed herself for you the same way you did for me that night you got beat senseless. I never really thanked you for that... so, thanks."
"What are friends for?" Harry whispered back. Then he heaved his school bag onto his back and headed out the door, leaving it wide open for the morning guard to find.
A minute later, as Harry strode past Hedwig's tree on his way to the front gates, he whistled. The snowy owl came soaring down out of the branches to land on his arm, and he whispered, "We're going away, girl. Come with me?" Hedwig hooted an affirmative reply and took to the sky once again, presumably to meet back up with him at a later time.
Finally, as he stood poised to unlock the front gates of the school, Harry told Tyler, "Promise me you'll go straight back to bed. I don't want anyone connecting you with anything that happened tonight."
Tyler held up his hands in mock-surrender. "I promise," he said. "I don't want anyone connecting me with anything that happened tonight either."
Harry nodded and, on a sudden impulse, gave his friend an awkward hug. Then he pointed to the lock, whispered, "Alohomora," and stepped out into the night.
Glancing around, Harry's eyes fell on something that seemed extraordinarily out of place: there was a broomstick leaning against the wall, just to the right of the gate. Unlike all of the broomsticks Harry had experience with, however, this one had a contoured handle that almost seemed to have been designed for riding on. He wondered briefly whether this broom had belonged to the rat-wizard, but a sudden sound to his left stole his attention. His head snapped around and he ducked just as a jet of red light flew over his head. At least three dark, hooded figures were silhouetted against the slightly lighter sky.
With no time to think, Harry threw two Stunners in the general direction of his attackers and leapt astride the broom, praying that this time the broom would fly. It did. He soared upward, spinning and rolling to avoid the curses that were coming from the ground as though he had flown every day of his life. The feeling of absolute freedom was exhilarating, and he felt the broom and his body become one as it responded flawlessly to his every command. He shot straight up in the air, and then twisted around to see that one of the cloaked figures had mounted another broom and was giving chase. The others remained on the ground, firing curses that Harry dodged almost without even realizing it. As he sped toward the other broomstick, its rider sent a jet of red light directly at Harry's chest. Harry rolled to his left, flying upside down for a few seconds but not changing course, and shouted, "Abigo!"
The other broomstick did not respond to his spell; the wizard riding it, however, did. His hand was ripped from the handle, and he was thrown high into the air. As he fell, the man somehow maintained the presence of mind necessary to Summon his broomstick, and he swept back up at Harry after falling to within ten feet of the ground. Harry swore under his breath and charged his opponent once more.
The next curse to come Harry's way resembled a dark purple flame, and he had to turn sharply to avoid being hit. The other wizard followed suit, and Harry realized his mistake: he had allowed his opponent to get behind him. He pulled up hard on the handle of his broomstick and went into a tight roll, reversing his direction in less than a second. As he shot past his astonished adversary, he hissed, "Incendio," setting the twigs of the other broom's tail ablaze.
As Harry came around for another pass, he felt a sudden heat on his back. Twisting around, he saw, to his horror, that the twigs of his own broom were burning as well. Not knowing a spell for dousing fires, he did the only thing he could think of: he made a slashing motion with his hand while saying, "Diffindo," severing the burning portions from the rest of his broom's tail. Immediately, he noticed that the broom's response seemed more sluggish than it had been a moment ago.
Using both hands to force the damaged broom to fly in a straight line, he shot toward the other flyer. A jet of red light burst from the other wizard's wand, and Harry swerved to his right to avoid being hit. As they passed in midair, he pointed to a spot on the other broom's handle just behind the rider, and shouted, "Diffindo!" The flaming tail immediately began plummeting toward the ground, while the rider fought desperately to control his uncontrollable broom handle. Harry hovered for a moment as the runaway broomstick jerked and bucked, spiraling downward faster and faster, and finally collided with the outer wall of St. Brutus's. He winced at the sound of the crash, but immediately had to roll to his left to avoid being hit by a spell sent from the ground. In all the excitement, he had completely forgotten that there were at least two enemy wizards still down there. Pulling his broom around to face east, Harry took off like a rocket. The last thing he heard before everything was drowned out by the sound of the wind rushing by his ears was Tyler's excited shout of, "Go Harry!"
For several minutes, Harry kept glancing backward over his shoulder, half-expecting to see a group of wizards on broomsticks in hot pursuit, but it soon became apparent that the only other flying broomstick at St. Brutus's was the one he had destroyed. The other wizards must have used a different method of travel. On and on he flew, not even bothering to slow down or change course when he flew into a rainstorm. Finally, when he was so tired that he was afraid he would fall asleep on the broom if he didn't stop and rest, he began looking for a place to spend the night. Spotting a small thicket of trees near an open field, he landed and - still wearing his schoolbag and clutching the broom handle - fell fast asleep on the muddy ground just as the dawn began peeking over the horizon.
A/N: It's strange, really. I hate snakes in real life, but it really hurt me to let Wormtail kill Hassseth (and if you didn't know it was Wormtail, then shame on you). Both of the deaths in this chapter were planned from the very beginning, though - that's just the way it goes sometimes.