was broken as though somebody had smashed it.

 The windows were all boarded up. Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked very frightened but nodded. Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows. 

Amelia looked around the room. It was the one she and Ron had snuck into during their trip to Hogsmeade. She didn't have time then to look around, but now that she didn't, she wished she hadn't. The place was a mess. "Yuck." 

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack." Harry looked around. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely. 

"Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly. 

"No. No, they do not," Amelia grasped her wand and her stick tightly.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had Moved upstairs. They looked up at the ceiling. Hermione's grip on Harry's arm was so tight he was losing feeling in-his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her; she nodded again and let go. 

Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs. 

They reached the dark landing. 

"Nox," they whispered together, and the lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod.

 Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open. 

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron