With a loud pop, Sirius stood on the road in Hogsmeade, covered in leaves and burrs, his once respectable wizard robes torn to shreds by the bushes.
It was already getting dark, and the streetlights had come on early.
The Three Broomsticks pub was nearby, and the scent of Butterbeer and steak wafted out.
Sirius was already very hungry. He licked his lips, still thinking about the important information he had just overheard, and walked towards Hogwarts without a second's delay.
This matter was too important; he had to report it to Dumbledore in person.
Walking through the winding alleys and along the path leading to the school, the surroundings gradually became quiet and profound. The trees lining the road reminded Sirius of his pursuit of Wormtail.
He gnashed his teeth, as if he could taste the bloody flavor of a live rat being devoured.
—Once again, that guy had escaped right under his nose…
Back in school, Sirius had always looked down on Wormtail's Animagus form, making fun of it many times.
But when he actually encountered the guy, he realized how troublesome it was when an opponent could turn into a rat.
Suddenly, something in his pocket started to throb, like an agitated rabbit.
Sirius took out the Communication Pea, and the throbbing pea immediately quieted down. He put the pea in his ear and heard a faint voice:
"Harry Potter requesting communication… Harry Potter requesting communication…"
If it had been anyone else unimportant, Sirius would have hung up without hesitation. But since it was Harry calling, he naturally connected immediately.
"Harry?" Sirius asked with concern. "How have you been doing lately?"
"I'm alright. Although Aunt Petunia is making us all diet with Dudley, everyone sent me a lot of snacks. Remus and Wade came today too, so at least I won't starve."
Harry didn't complain about the Dursley family's recently outrageous meals. After briefly skipping that topic, he quickly stated the purpose of his call.
"I had a nightmare, Sirius."
"A nightmare?"
Calling his godfather, who was on an important mission, just because of a nightmare sounded even more ridiculous than being abused by a foster family.
But Sirius didn't think Harry was overreacting. He patiently asked, "What did you dream about?"
"I, I dreamed about…"
Harry stared blankly at the spellbook he had left on his desk last night, suddenly forgetting what he was about to say.
Everything in the dream faded quickly like a receding tide, but before those images completely disappeared, the scar on Harry's forehead burned fiercely, and the intense pain pulled back his fading memories.
"I dreamed of Professor Lockhart."
Harry murmured, "He and that person named Garr Trocar in the newspaper… were being tortured by me with the Cruciatus Curse…"
"Wait, by whom?" Sirius felt something was wrong and quickly pressed, "By you?"
"By me…"
Harry also found it unbelievable. He frowned, struggling to recall the scene from his dream.
The vivid images and heart-wrenching screams made him almost believe he had killed those two people.
But stranger still, in the dream, he felt no guilt or reluctance, so cold… cruel… even with a hint of pleasure… as if a devil was hidden deep within him.
Harry instinctively swallowed that feeling, vaguely saying, "I dreamed I was torturing them… and I think I saw a very large snake…"
Sirius was speechless for a long time.
Lockhart and Garr… Sirius had watched them enter that old house and never come out again.
From "Barty's" tone, they were probably tricked by Peter Pettigrew, offered as sacrifices to Voldemort.
But… this had just happened, so why did Harry see it immediately in his dream?
It sounded like he had seen everything through Voldemort's eyes… even what Sirius didn't know… what happened to those two after they entered the house.
This bizarre situation made Sirius extremely uneasy.
His silence also made Harry more uneasy, and a little worried that his call was making his godfather think he was being overly dramatic and not serious enough.
So Harry added, "When I woke up, my scar started hurting again—it hasn't hurt in a long time."
Sirius's previously quick steps suddenly stopped, as if time had frozen. He couldn't speak for a long time, only his slightly trembling breaths remained.
He vaguely felt he had grasped something… a thought flashed through his mind…
But the inspiration was too brief, and before he could seize it, it vanished.
In a trance, he felt as if he were standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by tall bookshelves, the unique scent of parchment and ink lingering in his nostrils, his fingers feeling a delicate and soft touch, even faintly warm.
He seemed to hear Regulus's childish voice in his ear: "Sirius, what are you doing here?"
...
"Sirius? Sirius?"
No sound came from the Communication Pea for a long time, only a faint rustling of wind.
Harry took off the Communication Pea, looked at it quizzically, then put it back to his ear and called out again, "Sirius?"
"I'm here." Sirius took a deep breath and said, "I'm actually on my way to see Dumbledore right now. I'll ask him… if he knows why your scar is hurting."
Harry felt a bit awkward. "Isn't that... a bit of an overreaction? It only hurt for a few minutes. Maybe it's normal, just my imagination..."
"No, Harry," Sirius said gravely. "No one else in the Wizarding World has survived being hit by a killing curse like you. Any change related to that scar is not a small matter!"
"Alright," Harry said half-heartedly. "It actually doesn't hurt anymore... Don't worry."
Though he said that, Harry actually felt that the pain in his scar was far from insignificant.
Sirius didn't say, "It's nothing serious." Instead, he took it very seriously, which made Harry feel incredibly comforted and relieved him of his previous worries and burdens.
He then tried hard to dig out more details from his dream to tell Sirius. After finishing the call, Harry lay back down in bed, pulled up the covers, and drifted off to sleep, feeling relaxed.
Sirius, however, watched the towering castle with a heavy expression, extended his Wand, and sent a signal to the person inside.
Soon after, Hagrid approached with a lantern, pushing open the wooden door with a creak.
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