Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

between Ron’s clutching fingers, hit the ground and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away into the darkness.
    ‘Ron!’ Hermione moaned.
    She and Harry looked at each other, then followed at a sprint; it was impossible to run full out under the Cloak; they pulled it off and it streamed behind them like a banner as they hurtled after Ron; they could hear his feet thundering along ahead, and his shouts at Crookshanks.
    ‘Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come here – ’
    There was a loud thud.
    ‘ Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat –’
    Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.
    ‘Ron – come on – back under the Cloak –’ Hermione panted. ‘Dumbledore – the Minister – they’ll be coming back out in a minute –’
    But before they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark – an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.
    Harry reached for his wand, but too late – the dog had made an enormous leap and its front paws hit him on the chest. He keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth –
    But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him; dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack.
    Ron was on his feet. As the dog sprang back towards them, he pushed Harry aside; the dog’s jaws fastened instead around Ron’s outstretched arm. Harry lunged at it and seized a handful of the brute’s hair, but it was dragging Ron away as easily as if he were a rag-doll –
    Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall, too. Harry groped for his wand, blinking blood out of his eyes –
    ‘Lumos!’ he whispered.
    The wand-light showed him 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 backwards and forwards to stop them going nearer.
    And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging Ron backwards 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 backwards 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 pulling him further underground. Then a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron’s leg had broken, and next second, his foot had vanished from sight.
    ‘Harry – we’ve got to go for help –’ Hermione cried; she was bleeding, too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder.
    ‘No! That thing’s big enough to eat him, we haven’t got time –’
    ‘We’re never going to get through without help –’
    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, but he couldn’t get an inch nearer to the tree-roots without being in range of the tree’s blows.
    ‘Oh, help, help,’ Hermione whispered frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, ‘please …’
    Crookshanks darted forwards. 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 –’
    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 bottle-brush tail. Harry went next; he crawled forwards, headfirst, and slid down an earthy slope to the bottom of a