AvatarCat11: Well, this is it, everyone! This is the final chapter of Nightfang And The Cavern Of Secrets!
Harry: I'm glad we got this far already! And I'm glad this year was over quick!
Ron: Me too.
Hermione: Me three.
Ginny: And me four! So who gets to say the disclaimer and summary this time? (All think for a bit before she says) How about you, AvatarCat?
AvatarCat11: ME? (All four nod) Well...sure. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I will never own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter, their respective owners.
Updating Date: December 9, 2011
Everyone: Enjoy the last chapter!
For a moment, there was silence as all four cats stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Nightpaw's case) blood. Then there was a scream, shouting for Leafpaw.
It was Hollywhisker, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her paws, at once followed by Weaseltail, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.
Nightpaw, however, was looking past them. Silverstar had returned at last, standing by the ledge, smiling, next to Thistleheart, who was taking great steadying gasps. Roku went rocketing past the black cat's ear and settled on Silverstar's shoulder, just as the toms of the Golden Trio being swept into Hollywhisker's tight embrace.
"You saved her, you two! How did you do it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," Thistleheart gasped weakly.
Hollywhisker let go of Nightpaw, who hesitated for a moment. Then he padded over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Collar, the ruby-encrusted dagger, and the remains of Pantherclaw's journal.
Then he started telling the other cats everything. For nearly twenty-five minutes, he spoke in the absorbed silence. He told them about hearing the ghostly voice, how Fawnpaw finally realized that he heard a basilisk in the pipes. Nightpaw also told of how he and Redpaw had followed the ants into the swamp, where Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; he told how he had guessed that Carping Turtleneck had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Cavern of Secrets might be in her restroom.
Thistleheart prompted him, "Very well. So you found out where the entrance was...breaking too many school rules into pieces along the way, I should say...but how in StarClan's name did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"
So Nightpaw, whose voice was hoarse from all the talking, told them about Roku's timely arrival and about the Sorting Collar giving him the dagger. But then he faltered.
He avoided revealing Pantherclaw's journal...or Leafpaw. She was standing there with her head against her mother's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they banished her? Nightpaw thought in panic. The journal doesn't work anymore… How could I prove it was Pantherclaw who made her do it all?
Instinctively, Nightpaw looked at Silverstar, who smiled faintly. The firelight was glancing off his half-moon spectacles, which he wore when he needed to read something.
"What interests me most," Silverstar murmured gently, "is how Red Helmet managed to possess Leafpaw, when my research tells me he is in hiding in the swamps of Louisiana."
Relief...warm, sweeping, glorious relief...swept over Nightpaw. Leafpaw wasn't going to be exiled after all.
"W-what?" Weaseltail gasped in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? P-Possess Leafpaw? But she's not...has she?"
"It was this journal," Nightpaw mewed quickly, picking it up and showing it to the leader of the Forest. "Pantherclaw wrote it when he was sixteen."
Silverstar took the diary from Nightpaw and peered keenly at it. He looked down his scarred flat nose at its burnt and soggy pages as he flipped through it. He murmured, "Brilliant. Of course, he was probably the most vivid apprentice the Forest has ever seen." He turned to the Weasley cats, who were looking utterly dazed.
"Very few cats know that Red Helmet was a cat named Pantherclaw Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at the Forest. He disappeared after leaving the school, traveled far and wide, and sank too deeply into the Dark Arts. He banded with the very worst of our kind, endured so much risky magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as a bear we know today as Red Helmet, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected him with the clever handsome cat who was once Head Cat here."
"Silverstar," Hollywhisker asked him. "What's our Leafpaw got to do with...him?"
Leafpaw had been silent, but now she broke down and sobbed, "I-It's his journal! I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year!"
"Leafpaw!" Weaseltail rasped, stunned. "Haven't I taught you anything? What did I always tell you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't find where it keeps its brain? Why didn't you show this to me or your mother? With an object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!"
"I d-didn't know," Leafpaw wept. "I found it inside one of the books Mom got me. I t-thought someone left it in there and forgotten about it..."
Silverstar stepped in with a firm voice, "Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away. This has been a terrible ordeal for her, so she shall have no punishment. Older and wiser warriors than she have been deluded by Red Helmet."
He strode over to the door and opened it. "How about some rest and perhaps a large steaming mug of hot chocolate? It always cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Poppyleaf is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice. I say the basilisk's victims will wake up any moment."
"So Fawnpaw's gonna be okay!" Redpaw purred brightly.
"Indeed. And there has been no lasting harm done, Leafpaw," Silverstar mewed gently to the American Shorthair.
Hollywhisker gently nudged her daughter out, her eyes troubled. Weaseltail followed them out, still looking deeply shaken about how the demon bear had possessed his kit. Thistleheart looked around to see if her leader was going to follow.
"Thistleheart, my old friend," Silverstar told her thoughtfully, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and kindly alert the kitchens?"
"Yes, Silverstar," the Oriental Shorthair mix replied curtly, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with these two, shall I?"
The silver tabby Persian tom nodded. "Certainly."
Thistleheart followed the Weasley cats out the door, and Nightpaw and Redpaw gazed timidly at their leader. What exactly did Thistleheart mean, deal with them? Surely...were they about to be punished?
"You do realize that in the past few hours, you two have broken more than enough school rules tonight, correct?" Silverstar asked them through narrowed blue eyes.
Nightpaw and Redpaw nodded. "Yes sir."
Silverstar cleared his throat. "And I have said that if you did anything like that again, I would have to banish you two."
"Yes sir," they mewed again.
Silverstar went on, "So it is only fitting that you will receive..."
The two toms flinched.
"...Special Awards for Services to the School," Silverstar purred, smiling and making them stare in awe. "And...I think two hundred points apiece for LionClan. It comes to show we must eat our own words sometimes."
Redpaw went as brightly pink as Gloryhound's valentine flowers and closed his mouth again. Nightpaw was amazed to hear that, but he was also relieved. Leafpaw was out of trouble, and so were they.
Silverstar looked over Redpaw's shoulder at someone behind them. "But one of us seems to be mightily quiet about his part in this adventure. Why so meek, Gloryhound?"
Nightpaw gave a start. He had completely forgotten about the cream-furred Cornish Rex tom. He turned and saw that Gloryhound was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Silverstar addressed him, the confused tomcat looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.
Redpaw mewed, "Silverstar, there was an accident down in the Cavern Of Secrets. I know he was a mentor..."
Gloryhound mewed with surprised, "I'm a mentor? Goodness. I thought I was hopeless, was I?"
"He tried to do a Memory Charm, and my tail-wand backfired," Redpaw explained quietly to his leader.
"Oh, great StarClan above," Silverstar meowed, shaking his head, his long silver mustache fur quivering. "Stabbed by your own dagger, Gloryhound!"
"Dagger?" the creamy brown tom replied dimly. "Haven't got a dagger. He does, though. He'll give you one," he added, pointing his tail at Nightpaw.
Silverstar gave him an odd look before meowing to Redpaw, "Would you mind taking him up to the medicine den? I'd like a few more words with Nightpaw here."
Gloryhound ambled out, looking about him in awe. Redpaw gave Silverstar and Nightpaw a curious look before he closed the door.
Silverstar crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. "Sit down, Nightpaw," he meowed.
Nightpaw padded over to the fireplace and sat down, feeling unaccountably nervous.
"First, I would like to thank you," Silverstar began, his blue eyes flashing again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Cavern of Secrets. Nothing but that could have summoned Roku to you."
He stroked said phoenix, who had fluttered down onto his forepaws and cuddled next to him like a cat against its owner's leg. Nightpaw grinned awkwardly as Silverstar watched him.
Silverstar went on, "And you also met Pantherclaw Riddle. I imagine he was very interested in you."
Suddenly, something that was nagging at Nightpaw's brain came tumbling out of his mouth.
"Silverstar, Pantherclaw told me I was like him. Strange likenesses, he said..."
"He did?" the Persian cat meowed, looking thoughtfully at Nightpaw from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Nightpaw?"
Loudly, he yowled, "I'm not like him! I mean, I'm...in LionClan. I'm..."
But he fell still, a prowling doubt rising in his mind.
"Silverstar," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Collar told me I would've done well in ViperClan. Everyone thought I was Viper's heir for a while. Because I speak Serpustongue."
"You can speak the language, Nightpaw," Silverstar meowed calmly, "because Red Helmet, the last living descendant of Viper Slytherin, can speak Serpustongue. Unless I'm mistaken, he must have shifted some of his powers to you the night he gave you that scar and killed your parents. Not something he wanted to do, I'm sure."
Nightpaw was shocked. "Red Helmet...put some of himself in me?"
"It seems so."
"So I should be a ViperClan cat," Nightpaw rasped, looking urgently at Silverstar in the face. "The Sorting Collar could see Viper's power in me, and it..."
"Put you in LionClan," his leader finished calmly. "Listen, Nightpaw. You have many qualities Viper Slytherin prized in his select cats. His very rare gift of language, ingenuity, resolve, and a certain disregard for the rules," he chuckled, his mustache fur quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Collar placed you in LionClan. You know why. Think."
Defeated, Nightpaw admitted, "It put me in LionClan because I asked not to go in ViperClan."
Smiling, Silverstar purred, "Yes. That is what makes you different from Pantherclaw. It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices." Nightpaw sat motionless in his chair, stunned as Silverstar went on, "If you want proof that you belong in LionClan, I suggest you look more closely at this."
Silverstar padded over to and leaped onto his desk, picked up the blood-stained silver dagger in his jaws, and handed it to Nightpaw. Dully, the Maine Coon/British Shorthair mix turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt.
"Only a true LionClan cat could have pulled that out of the collar. You are indeed the truest LionClan cat I have seen this year, Nightpaw," Silverstar told him simply.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Silverstar pulled open one of the drawers in his desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.
He explained, "What you need right now is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast while I write to Alcatraz; we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an ad for the Daily Warrior too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor. Oh dear, we do seem to run out of them, don't we? You may go, Nightpaw."
Nightpaw got up and crossed to the door. But he had just reached his paw out for the door handle when the door burst open so violently it bounced back off the wall. The black tom stumbled back to see who had so abruptly burst into the office.
Blizzardclaw was standing there, fury in his face. And cowering behind him, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Bobby. Nightpaw had heard from earlier that Bobby might have been the house-lemur of the Malfoys.
But he is!
"Good evening, Blizzardclaw," Silverstar purred pleasantly.
Blizzardclaw nearly knocked Nightpaw to the side as he hurried into the room. Bobby darted in after him, bending at the hem of his cape, a look of hopeless terror on his face. Now after having been injured or getting into trouble because of the flying lemur, Nightpaw felt bad for him.
The winged lemur was carrying a stained rag, with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Blizzardclaw's face. Apparently the black-&-silver tabby tom had set out in a great hurry, for not only was his face half-polished, but his usually sleek fur was untidy. Ignoring the lemur bobbing ruefully around his ankles, he fixed his cold gray eyes upon Silverstar.
"How dare you return," he hissed softly. "The councils suspended you, but you still decided to return to the Forest."
Smiling despite the hostile act, Silverstar replied, "You see, the other eleven councils wrote to me today. It was something like being caught in a blizzard of owls. They heard that Weaseltail Weasley's daughter was killed and wanted me back at once. They seemed to think I was the best cat for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me too. Several of these stories included you blackmailing families into suspending me or you would curse their families."
Blizzardclaw went pale, but his eyes were still slits of fury. "The culprit has been identified, I presume?"
"Well? Who?" Blizzardclaw spat.
Silverstar replied, "Red Helmet."
Blizzardclaw gave a snort.
"But this time, he acted through somebody else," Silverstar went on. "By means of this journal." He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching the British Shorthair closely.
Nightpaw, however, was watching Bobby. The winged lemur was doing something very odd. His great orange eyes fixed profoundly on Nightpaw, for he kept pointing at the journal, then at Blizzardclaw. Then he started hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.
"Ah," Blizzardclaw mewed slowly.
Still staring Blizzardclaw straight in the eye, Silverstar went on in a level voice, "It was quite clever. If Nightpaw and his friend Redpaw hadn't discovered this book, Leafpaw might have taken all the blame. No one would ever prove she hadn't acted on her own free will."
Blizzardclaw said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike, but his ears were flattening.
"And imagine," Silverstar continued, "what might have happened then. The Weasley cats are one of our most noticeable pure-bred families. Imagine the effect it would perhaps Weaseltail and his Kittypet Protection Act if his own daughter was found attacking and killing kittypet-born cats. It's a good thing this journal was exposed, and Pantherclaw's memories wiped from it. And who knows what the penalties might have been otherwise?"
Then Blizzardclaw forced himself to speak. "Ah," he growled again stiffly.
And still, behind his back, Bobby was pointing, first to the journal, then to Blizzardclaw, then punching himself in the head. Now Nightpaw understood. He nodded at Bobby, and the winged lemur backed into a corner, twisting his ears in punishment.
"You really wanna know how Leafpaw got your journal, Mr. Malfoy?" Nightpaw asked the British Shorthair.
Blizzardclaw rounded on him. "I don't know what you're talking about. How should I know how the stupid little kit got hold of it?"
Nightpaw went on, "I think you know what I'm saying. You gave it to her at Dragon Alley that day. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"
"You do, do you?" Blizzardclaw hissed, his claws unsheathing. "Why don't you prove it?"
"Oh, no one can do that now," Silverstar meowed, smiling at Nightpaw. "Pantherclaw vanished from the book. On the other paw, Blizzardclaw, I would advise you not to give out any more of Red Helmet's old school things. If any more find their way into good paws, I think Weaseltail will make sure they are traced back to you. Otherwise, the penalties would be...severe."
Blizzardclaw stood for a moment, and Nightpaw distinctly saw his right forepaw twitch as if he was longing to extract his claws. Nightpaw felt his claws sheathed, ready to fight him right there and then. He would never forgive the black-&-silver tabby tom for what he did during the past moons. Never.
Instead, Blizzardclaw spun around and turned to his lemur. "We're going, Bobby!"
He wrenched open the door, and as Bobby came hurrying up to him, he picked Bobby up and tossed him roughly through the doorway. They could hear the winged lemur squealing with pain all the way along the corridor.
Nightpaw stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him...
"Silverstar," he meowed in a hurry. "Can I give the journal back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"
Silverstar nodded. "Yes you may. But please hurry. Remember the banquet."
Nightpaw nodded, grabbed the journal, and dashed out of the office. He could hear Bobby's shrill squeals of pain retreating around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could maybe work, Nightpaw saw his sweater suddenly lying on top of the journal and stuffed it into the book. Then the Maine Coon/British Shorthair mix ran down the dark corridor.
He caught up with them at the top of the stairs. Skidding to a halt, he called, "Mr. Malfoy, I got something for you!"
And he forced the book into Blizzardclaw's outstretched paw.
"What the...?" The dark silver tabby tom rasped. He threw it aside, and glared furiously from the ruined book to Nightpaw. "Your parents were meddlesome fools too, Potter," he snarled. "And mark my words: one day, you'll meet the same sticky end."
He turned to go. "Come, Bobby."
But Bobby didn't move. For Nightpaw whispered to him, "Open it."
The lemur did as he asked by going over to the book and opening it. There was the sweater, lying there all bright green with the LionClan crest on the front. Shock in his orange eyes, Bobby held up Nightpaw's cat sweater; he was looking at it as if it were a priceless treasure.
"Bobby? I said come!" the snarl of Blizzardclaw echoed.
"Master...has given a sweater," the winged lemur said in shock.
Blizzardclaw spun around. "What? But I didn't give..."
In disbelief, Bobby rasped, "Master has presented Bobby with clothes!" With delight, he added, "Bobby is free."
The British Shorthair stood there frozen, staring at the lemur before glaring over at Nightpaw. The black tom, smiling, padded into the moonlight, where an imprint of where the sweater was supposed to be flashed in the light. His plan had worked.
"What?" Blizzardclaw gasped before spitting at Nightpaw, "You've lost me my SERVANT!"
But as the British Shorthair stalked closer to the young black cat, Bobby shouted shrilly, "You shall not harm Nightpaw Potter!"
However, Blizzardclaw didn't listen as he began roaring, "Avada-"
Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and the evil cat was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and unsheathed his claws, but Bobby raised a long threatening finger at him. The lemur had at last shown his true colors.
"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing at Blizzardclaw. "You shall not harm Nightpaw Potter. You shall go now."
The winged lemur's former owner had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cape around him and spat, "Well...let us hope Nightpaw Potter will always be there to save the day."
"Don't worry, sir," Nightpaw spat back. "I will be."
Blizzardclaw curled his lip once more into a snarl and hurried out of sight.
"Nightpaw Potter freed Bobby!" the lemur cheered shrilly, gazing up at Nightpaw as moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his eyes. "Nightpaw set Bobby free!"
"No problem, Bobby," purred Nightpaw, smiling. "Just promise me one thing."
Bobby nodded. "Anything, sir!"
Nightpaw meowed, as a bit of a joke, "Never try and save my life again."
The lemur's brown face split suddenly into a wide smile as he nodded. His ears flapped to and fro as he nodded quickly.
"Just a question, though, Bobby," Nightpaw meowed as Bobby pulled on his new sweater with shaking hands. "You told me all this didn't have anything to do with You-Know-Who, right? Well..."
"It was a clue, sir," Bobby said, his eyes widening, as if it was obvious. "'Twas a clue. Before he changed his name, the Dark Bear could be freely named, you know?"
Nightpaw nodded weakly. "Yeah, sure. Hey, I better go. There's a banquet going on soon, and my friend Fawnpaw should be awake by now."
Bobby threw his arms around Nightpaw's neck and hugged him, crying gladly, "Nightpaw Potter is by far greater than Bobby ever knew! Farewell, sir! Until we meet again!"
And with a final loud click and a snap of his fingers, Bobby vanished.
Nightpaw had been to several Forest feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was still up, and the celebration lasted all through the night. Nightpaw didn't know what the best part, but one was Fawnpaw running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!" and throwing him into a feline hug.
"And Redpaw," Fawnpaw mewed, letting go of Nightpaw and facing him. Instead of hugging him, she just dipped her head awkwardly to him, mewing, "Thanks again."
Redpaw dipped his head back to her, replying, "Eh, what're friends for?"
Many thing happened that night, like Finchpaw hurrying over to thank Nightpaw and apologize endlessly for suspecting him,or his and Redpaw's four hundred points for LionClan securing the Clan Trophy for the second year running, or Thistleheart standing up to tell them all that the tests had been canceled as a school treat. Silverstar even said that Gloryhound would not return next year, thanks to going away and get his memory back. Many mentors joined in the cheering that greeted this news.
"What a shame," Redpaw replied, eating a vole strudel. "He was starting to grow on me."
The Forest was now back to normal with only small differences: Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled ("But we've had plenty of practice at that anyway," Redpaw told a rather irate Fawnpaw), and Blizzardclaw was fired as a school governor. Icepaw was no longer strutting around the school as if he owned the place. In contrast, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other paw, Leafpaw was perfectly happy again.
"Leafpaw," Nightpaw mewed, recalling what she was going to tell them earlier, "What did you see Sandthorn doing that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"
"Oh, that," Leafpaw giggled. "Well...he has a mate now."
Nearby, Berrytail, who was horsing around with Cherrynose, pushed his brother aside to see what was going on. Cherrynose got up and padded up to the others.
Leafpaw went on, "It's that RavenClan cat, Lightwhisker Clearwater. That's who he was writing to for the past greenleaf. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them making out, in the cat way, in an empty classroom one day. He was so distraught when she was attacked. You won't tease him about it, will you?" she added anxiously.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Berrytail meowed, who looked like his birthday came early.
"No way," Cherrynose added, snorting.
Nightpaw rolled his eyes before remembering something. So he pulled out his quill and a bit of scroll, turning to his other friends.
"This is what Twolegs call a telephone number," he told Redpaw, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "I told your dad how to use a cell phone last greenleaf; he'll know. Call me at the Dursley cats', okay? I can't stand another two moons with only Tubby to talk to."
"Your aunt and uncle will be proud of you, right?" Fawnpaw mewed. "When they hear what you did this year?"
Nightpaw snorted. "Proud? You kidding me? All those times I could've died, and I didn't die? They'll be as mad as Hell!"
Suddenly, the oak doors of the Great Hall opened up, making every cat turn to see who it was. There, walking down the lane between LionClan and BadgerClan, was Badgerstripe. The huge black cat looked relieved as he looked up to where Silverstar was sitting at.
Silverstar dipped his head to the black-furred gamekeeper and greeted him, "Welcome back, our old friend."
"Thanks, sir," Badgerstripe returned the greeting. "Sorry I was late. But it weren't easy gettin' outta Alcatraz. The letter sent there was brought over by a ditzy old owl. One named Dodo."
Redpaw turned really red at this.
Looking over at the Golden Trio, Badgerstripe smiled at them and greeted them warmly, "I'd just like ter say that, if it weren't for yeh, Nightpaw, and Redpaw and Fawnpaw of course, I'd be...well, at You-Know-Where At. But I'd like to say...thanks," he added with a smile.
"Well, there's no Forest without you, Badgerstripe," Nightpaw purred, going over to him and giving him a feline hug.
Immediately, Redpaw and Fawnpaw got up and also gave the huge black cat a hug. All the other cats from BadgerClan and RavenClan came over and also gave him a hug, which he returned. But none of the ViperClan cats came over; Icepaw's cronies were going to get up, but their boss pulled them down with a hiss.
Around them, all the other mentors, even if Brokenfang did it reluctantly, began clapping for him. Silverstar was the one giving the loudest clapping, his bright blue eyes filled with pride and his silver tabby pelt glowing white in the candlelight. The Forest was now safe, missing cats were now found, and the Cavern of Secrets was closed forever.
This was one night the cats of the Forest would never forget.
AvatarCat11: There we go! That's the end of this book! You guys excited about it?
Harry: You bet! It's been months since this began! Can we say the review, preview for the next book, and special thanks?
Ron: Yeah, can we?
Hermione: (Rolls her eyes playfully) Boys...
AvatarCat11: Sure thing!
Harry: Thanks, mate. (To the readers) Anyone who reviews this chapter or the entire story will receive a virtual plush doll of their favorite Harry Potter character in Nightfang form. Or they can receive virtual Christmas cookies. And remember: flames will be used for heating up a Christmas ham.
Ron: That's making me hungry right now. But here's the preview for Nightfang Potter And The Prisoner Of Alcatraz:
Preview: For twelve long years, the dreadful fortress of Second Alcatraz off the coast of southern Alaska held an infamous prisoner named Padfoot Black. Convicted of murdering thirteen Twolegs with a single attack, he was said to be the supposed heir of the Dark Bear, Red Helmet.
Now he has escaped, leaving only two clues for where he is headed: new warrior Nightfang Potter's defeat of You-Know-Who was Black's ruin as well. And the guards of Alcatraz even heard him mutter in his sleep, "He's at the Forest... He's at the Forest..."
Nightfang Potter is not safe, not even in the walls of his island school and with his friends. Because on top of it all in third year, there may be a traitor, waiting to strike.
Hermione: And I'll say the special thanks for those who reviewed this story so far:
Special thanks to: Stormfang12, snowwhistle, Hollywhisper, Lightningpaw, Ice. And Fire, MazimumRideFangLover97, Whiteclaw's girl, WildCroconaw, and LarkspiritofForestClan
Everyone: SEE YA NEXT TIME!