"Puking Pastilles need to make your tongue swell up without numbing it; gotta keep that itchy, thick-tongue slur for maximum comedy."
"Canary Creams have to snap back in a couple minutes, but only after someone's seen you; Professor Lewinter always said a prank's only good if everyone laughs…"
"Come on, manager George, we've still got a ton of inventions to perfect!"
"Boss Fred, with the professor's money we're about to go huge."
The twins were walking back to the common room, practically bouncing, voices dripping with barely-contained glee. They'd barely hesitated before accepting the investment; the reach of the Mirror Club platform was going to be insane. Two lifelong pranksters suddenly handed unlimited funding and zero supply limits; their brains were exploding with ideas.
The thought of dropping out hit them both at the same time. A cold gust on the open corridor finally cooled their overheating heads.
Fred looked up. The Scottish autumn sky was a deep blue velvet blanket, a handful of stars and a thin moon scattered across it. A damp breeze rolled in from the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake.
The Whomping Willow drooped across the pitch, its gnarled roots twisting like something alive in the dark.
"If Mum finds out, she'll break our legs," George muttered, shaking his head. "Below the knee, snap them clean off, maybe use a Bone-Remover curse, then lock us in wheelchairs and ship us back to school."
Fred shivered dramatically. "I've literally seen omens of death."
"What?"
Fred nodded toward the willow. "Right under that tree; saw a big black dog looking all mangy… Didn't Harry say something in Divination about the Grim?"
George squinted; same old violent tree, nothing special. He grinned. "That's rough. Guess the joke shop's gonna have one owner pretty soon."
"If Trelawney's ever right, all the fake predictions you wrote for her over summer would kill you a hundred times over. Falling off brooms, burning down kitchens, drowning in ponds…"
George's smile only got wider. "Don't disrespect Professor Trelawney; she's my favorite teacher. Easiest O.W.L. ever."
"Who isn't saying that…" Fred agreed. "Though the new Lupin bloke's pretty cool too. Defense Against the Dark Arts is actually fun. Last week he showed us a boggart."
They passed the turning staircase; the Defense professor's office light was still on.
George lowered his voice. "Speaking of Lupin; did you see how he dealt with that boggart? Riddikulus turned it into a crystal ball or something."
Fred shrugged. "Grown-up wizards are all a bit weird. Who knows?"
Still chatting pranks, they slipped through the Fat Lady's portrait and spotted Neville in the middle of the common room, surrounded by excited Gryffindors.
He'd slimmed down over the summer and still looked shy, but the grin on his face was unstoppable.
The twins weaved through the crowd and crouched behind the trio's usual sofa.
"Harry, what's up with Nev?"
"His mum and dad are healed. Out of St. Mungo's. The professors fixed them."
George jerked his thumb at Ron and Hermione, who were sulking opposite each other; Hermione scribbling homework, Ron clutching a very bald-looking Scabbers and glaring.
"And these two?"
"Same old pet drama. Crookshanks tried to eat Scabbers again."
Harry sighed. They were supposed to be planning how to prove Sirius Black's innocence, but those two were too busy bickering. Looked like he'd have to figure it out himself.
…
On a walnut desk in an office somewhere in the castle, an old piece of parchment shimmered with moving ink.
Melvin carefully cleaned off stubborn stains; dried sugar, random animal hairs; traces left by the Marauders and the twins.
"This parchment was torn from the castle's own ledger; tied directly to Hogwarts' magic. No wonder it shows everyone in real time."
He dusted it off. A little turpentine and beeswax and it'd last another thousand years.
Just as he was about to fold it, a very familiar name popped up.
Inside the castle hundreds of dots overlapped; outside, only Hagrid and Fang. Then, right under the Whomping Willow, a new dot appeared: Sirius Black.
Thirty seconds later it vanished.
Melvin smirked at the little drawing of the tree. So that's the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack; Lupin's old hiding spot for full moons. The big black dog was scouting.
Tiny footprints marched across the map, each labeled. Melvin's eyes drifted from the headmaster's office down to the dungeons. Felt a little guilty… and a little thrilled.
…
Scottish summer was officially over; the air turned crisp.
Over the next week Professor Lupin won everyone over with patience and actual knowledge. Defense Against the Dark Arts shot to the top of everyone's favorite classes (except a clump of Slytherins who kept sniping about his patched robes and how he "dressed like a house-elf").
Same energy as the first lesson; this time they covered Red Caps; nasty little bloodthirsty goblins that lurked in old battlegrounds and ambushed anyone bleeding.
When the bell rang the room exploded with chatter.
Harry saw Lupin slowly packing up, shoved his book at Ron, straightened his face, and hurried to the front.
Lupin locked the Red Cap box, looking healthier; color in his cheeks, hair filling in. "Harry, question about the lesson?"
"It was crystal clear," Harry said, then hesitated.
Lupin didn't push. Years on the run had taught him when to wait. He picked up his case. "Next class? No? Walk with me then."
They ended up on the long open bridge to the North Tower; hardly anyone around, cold wind whipping past, occasional owl hoots.
Lupin fished a chocolate bar from his pocket and handed it over. "Professor Lewinter's trick; sugar lowers defenses."
Harry almost smiled; then remembered the assignment Melvin had given him and the smile died.
Lupin raised an eyebrow. Kid lights up at the name but clams up when the actual person's involved?
"You want to ask why I stopped you facing the boggart last class," Lupin guessed gently. "I saw Neville's was Bellatrix and assumed yours would be… You-Know-Who."
"I did think of Voldemort first," Harry admitted, "but I'm not actually scared of him anymore. My parents beat him, I've beaten him… The thing that really terrifies me is those creatures from the train. The Dementors."
Lupin's eyes flickered; he'd heard Melvin's theories. "They feed on despair. Everyone's afraid up close. Nothing to be ashamed of."
"I don't even know why I'm that scared," Harry said quietly, staring down at tiny figures on the grounds. "Right before I passed out I heard a woman screaming; begging. I think… I think it was my mum. From that night in Godric's Hollow."
"Dementors drag up our worst memories," Lupin said softly.
Harry gripped the railing so hard his knuckles went white.
"Professor… I want to know exactly what happened to my parents. Everything."
Lupin stilled. This was it; the question Harry had been circling. He saw the boy's hands trembling slightly.
He deserved the truth.
"That night I was up in Yorkshire gathering intelligence…"
The Fidelius Charm, the Secret-Keeper switch; everything matched what Professor Lewinter had already told Harry.
"…when I got back to London they told me Sirius had been arrested."
Hearing it again, the burning hatred dulled a little, replaced by a fragile hope. Harry compared both versions in his head; no contradictions.
He swallowed. "Could there be something; some hidden truth we're missing?"
"More than anyone, I want there to be," Lupin said, voice cracking. "At school I was a loner. I had exactly three friends: Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and your dad. After that night I lost all of them; one traitor, two dead, one in Azkaban."
Why had gentle Professor Lupin been a loner? Why call himself weird?
It clicked like a lightning bolt.
The illness.
That had to be the key Melvin hinted at; the path to the real truth.
…
Next day; packed schedule.
First double period: Muggle Studies.
Melvin had been teaching long enough to read faces. Harry and Ron spent the first half whispering, the second half staring into space; both thought they were being subtle.
Harry alternated between frowning in concentration and random goofy grins; piecing together clues, then daydreaming about actually talking to his parents again.
Melvin didn't call on him; today was just household appliances; the Muggle-borns could snooze and still ace it.
Ten o'clock bell.
Melvin grabbed his books and headed out. A student jogged after him.
Neville, book bag swinging, holding out a fancy cream-colored envelope with both hands.
"Professor! This weekend my family's throwing a party; to celebrate Mum and Dad coming home, and to thank everyone who helped. Especially you, sir. We'd; we'd really love if you came."
Longbottom; one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, old Auror family that had faded after Frank and Alice were tortured. This party was their comeback announcement; half the wizarding world was invited.
Neville looked up, eyes shining with hope.
Melvin accepted the invitation with a smile.
"I'll be there."
Read advance chapter in my Pat****
ilham20
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