Inside the office, Dumbledore let out a soft sigh.
That look in Harry's eyes—he knew it all too well. James and Sirius had both worn the same expression back in their day. Once they'd set their minds on something, not even a mountain of fire and blades could stop them. Not even ten lions could drag them back.
Sitting in his armchair, Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, his thoughts drifting back to a much older time.
Godric Gryffindor—the legendary wizard who wielded a wand in one hand and a sword in the other—had never been what one would call gentle or mild-tempered. The lion on his crest symbolized more than courage; it stood for the ferocity of a predator tearing into its prey. To protect wizards, to carve a path through the darkness, Gryffindor's hands had been stained with far more blood than most people ever realized.
"Perhaps... that's the fate of a Gryffindor," Dumbledore murmured to himself, trying to soothe the unease growing in his chest. In Harry's fierce determination, he could see the shadow of the founder himself—fiery, sharp, and undeniable in his conviction.
But he couldn't let Harry be stained by blood so soon. The thought burned through Dumbledore's mind like wildfire.
"Fawkes," he called softly.
The phoenix immediately lifted off from its perch and landed on his shoulder, brushing its warm feathers against his cheek.
"We must find Peter before Harry does," Dumbledore said quietly but firmly. "I won't have that boy's hands tainted with blood—not yet."
Fawkes let out a clear, ringing cry, as if in agreement with his master's resolve.
---
When Harry pushed open the door to the Gryffindor common room, he found Hermione exactly where he expected her to be.
She was curled up in an armchair by the window, a book open on her lap, though her eyes kept darting toward the door.
The moment she saw him, she snapped the book shut, handed him a glass of water, and asked—trying a little too hard to sound casual, "What did Professor Dumbledore say to you?"
She did her best to sound calm, but her slightly leaning posture and bright, eager eyes gave her away instantly.
Seeing her like that made the heaviness Harry had been carrying since the meeting with Dumbledore fade almost completely. A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Nothing special," Harry said lightly, setting his trunk on the sofa. "Just that it's been upgraded. I can use it to practice spells inside now."
Hermione's face fell. She let out a long, drawn-out "Oh…" and idly scratched the spine of her book with a fingertip.
But two seconds later, she frowned. "Just that? You were gone for an hour!"
"I took a detour through the Forbidden Forest," Harry lied smoothly, even adding a little detail. "Had to go pick up Humphrey. Now that the trunk's working, I can't just leave him wandering around out there, can I?"
Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, searching his face. His expression was so calm, so confident, that she finally sighed and turned back to her book—though she flipped the next page with a bit more force than necessary.
Harry barely held back a laugh as he headed to the dormitory. A few minutes later, he came back down with his Nimbus 2001 in hand.
Hermione looked up, puzzled. "You're going to practice Quidditch? Now?"
Harry didn't answer. He just winked at her and flew out the window, circling the tower once. When Hermione leaned out to look, Harry turned midair, flashed her a sly grin, and shot off toward the Forbidden Forest.
It took Hermione three whole seconds to realize what had happened.
"Harry Potter! You lied to me again!" she shouted, stamping her foot. Her cheeks flushed red with anger and frustration—but there was a smile tugging at her lips all the same.
In her mind, if Harry still had the energy to joke around, then things couldn't be too serious.
But she couldn't have been more wrong.
---
Fawkes appeared out of nowhere, startling Hermione so much that she stumbled backward.
It took her a moment to process what she was seeing—Dumbledore's phoenix.
Fawkes tilted his head, gently nudged her bushy hair with his beak, then dropped a tightly rolled parchment onto her head. He turned, scanning the room with sharp, golden eyes—clearly searching for someone.
Hermione picked up the parchment and quickly realized what Fawkes wanted. He was looking for Harry.
But the boy who always slipped the phoenix bits of rare wood was, at that very moment, flying toward the Forbidden Forest.
Unable to find who he sought, Fawkes let out a soft, disappointed chirp before bursting into a swirl of flame and vanishing.
Hermione unrolled the parchment. Dumbledore's familiar handwriting filled the page.
There were no greetings or pleasantries—just a concise summary of his and Harry's suspicions that Peter Pettigrew was the true traitor. The note outlined everything: doubts about the Secret Keeper, the motive behind Black's escape—it read like a carefully compiled report.
At the bottom, Dumbledore's writing grew heavier:
"Keep an eye on Harry. Don't let him act rashly. If you find any leads concerning Peter, report to me immediately."
Hermione's fingers tightened around the parchment, crumpling the edges.
So that's what Harry and Dumbledore had really talked about.
A mix of emotions welled up in her chest—worry for Harry, and a touch of resigned understanding. Of course, she thought.
"Keep an eye on him, huh…" she whispered, tucking the parchment carefully into her robe. "That's easier said than done, Professor."
Her mind was already made up. If Dumbledore was entrusting her with watching over Harry, then from this moment on, she wasn't going to let him go off alone again.
---
Just then, Ginny burst into the room, her fiery red hair a tangled mess, her face clearly flushed with anger. No need to ask—she'd probably just had another fight with Pansy Parkinson.
Ever since Draco's Boggart incident, Pansy had been picking on her nonstop, and Ginny was running out of patience.
"Hermione! You won't believe what—"
Before she could even finish, a dark blur flashed in front of her. She instinctively reached out, and suddenly found herself holding a heavy book.
"Take that back to my dorm!" Hermione's voice called from the doorway.
She was already pulling her cloak over her shoulders, not even slowing her stride. "I've got something urgent to do!"
And before Ginny could reply, Hermione had vanished around the corner of the common room.
Standing there with the brick-heavy book in her arms, Ginny blinked, then sighed. "No need to guess—she's off to find Harry again."