Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Harry Potter, #3)

by J.K. Rowling

“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!” Snape said, hitting the map with his wand. As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map. “Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.” Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn’t stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first. “Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”

“If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” he said fiercely, though the effort of standing upright was draining him of still more color, and he swayed slightly as he spoke.

“Of course I know how to work it,” said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. “I helped write it. I’m Moony — that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.”

It stopped on the bank. Its hooves made no mark on the soft ground as it stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. And Harry realized . . . “Prongs,” he whispered.

“You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don’t recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?