October 30th—Halloween night, full moon.
This year's feast was louder than ever. The enchanted ceiling showed a sky choked with clouds and a swirling storm of bats. A thousand jack-o'-lanterns bobbed lazily under the rafters, spitting orange flames that rippled like liquid fire.
The food was ridiculous. Even kids who'd stuffed themselves silly at Honeydukes that afternoon still managed to waddle away from the tables groaning.
At the end, the ghosts put on their usual show—diving out of walls and ceilings, gliding in formation, twirling like underwater ballerinas with no water. Nearly Headless Nick finally got his big reenactment of his own botched beheading and brought the house down.
The professors were chatting about the huge black dog everyone kept seeing around the grounds. Lupin, two months into the job, looked happier than usual—aside from being a little pale. A couple of goblets of mead brought the color back to his cheeks, and he laughed along with the rest of them.
His steak was still rare. Blood pooled under it like ink.
Melvin kept glancing over, curious.
If he remembered right, tonight was the sixteenth by the lunar calendar—technically the fullest the moon got this month. For everyone else it was just a night to dress up as monsters. For one professor, the monster part was literal.
So it wasn't instant darkness that triggered the change—it was moonlight.
"Remus," Melvin said quietly, raising his glass with an easy smile. "Take a look at Harry down there. He's not doing great. He'll probably come asking you about the old days soon."
"Poor kid," a few professors murmured.
Lupin took a slow sip of mead. "Halloween Eve—October thirtieth. Twelve years ago tonight James and Lily died in Godric's Hollow. Harry became an orphan before he could walk."
"We left him on the Dursleys' doorstep the next morning," Dumbledore said softly, eyes distant. "Minerva waited on that wall for four hours."
McGonagall gave a tiny nod.
"The Ministry sent out word the same day—You-Know-Who gone, James and Lily the price paid," Sprout added. "Half the country turned up in Godric's Hollow to pay respects. Aurors had to check wands at the perimeter. Albus buried them behind the family plot when he got back. Someone put up that statue."
"Pretty much every witch and wizard within fifty miles showed up," Hagrid rumbled. "Friends of mine, regulars at the pub—everyone went."
Bit by bit they pieced the night together.
"We should take Harry to see them," Flitwick said.
"Christmas break," Lupin offered. "I'll bring him. Been too long since I visited James and Lily myself."
"It should've been family," McGonagall said quietly. "If not for that traitor, his godfather would've been the one to do it."
Everyone sighed.
Melvin listened without a word. Part of him was waiting for the moment the truth finally cracked open—not just for the drama, but because Sirius Black deserved to have his name cleared in public, loud and clear.
After the feast, the students filed out behind their prefects. Melvin lagged behind, taking the long way back to his office.
He settled into his chair, pulled out the Marauder's Map, and tapped it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Time to stalk Wormtail and Sirius. The daytime attack in Hogsmeade had failed; tonight, under the full moon, Sirius might risk the castle.
The man knew every secret passage like the back of his hand.
Knock knock knock.
Melvin froze, flicked his wand, and the map vanished.
"Come in."
The door creaked open. A tall, gaunt figure stepped out of the shadows—black robes, shoulder-length tangled hair. For a second he looked almost like a Dementor.
Snape swept in, face blank, dark eyes cold. "I need a favor, Melvin."
"Oh?"
"Be my witness."
…
Much later—Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
In the corner sat a square tank holding a sickly green kappa that bared its needle teeth at anyone who looked, then immediately hid behind its messy water weeds.
On the desk: a battered secondhand kettle and a tin of cheap tea bags that dissolved completely—no leaves, no fuss.
Lupin sat behind the desk pouring tea for his two late-night visitors. Steam curled up, warming tired eyes and aching bones.
He looked exhausted. "Couldn't this have waited until morning?"
Melvin shrugged innocently and pointed at Snape. Not my idea.
Snape didn't sit. "I can't wait any longer. When you examined Ron Weasley's injuries today you were hiding something—something about Sirius Black. Best friends, weren't you? Still covering for him."
"I'm… not certain," Lupin said carefully. "The boy's wounds were ordinary. No Dark magic, no curses—just claw marks."
"Then what aren't you certain about?"
"Sirius's intentions. The truth of what really happened back then."
Snape's lip curled. "You're saying Black didn't sell out the Potters? Didn't get Lily killed? Didn't blow Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles to pieces?"
Harry, invisible under the Invisibility Cloak just outside the door, raised his eyebrows. He had no idea Snape cared that much.
"I'm saying there's something we still don't know," Lupin replied.
Snape's voice rose. "So James Potter's blind trust in that arrogant—"
"Severus," Lupin cut in, calm but firm. "We were classmates. Rivals. You knew them all well enough. Sirius was reckless, arrogant, thick-headed—but he would never have betrayed James."
Snape's nostrils flared.
"They fought back-to-back a hundred times," Lupin went on. "James told me once that no curse would ever hit him in the back as long as Sirius was covering it. I believed him then. I still do. If Sirius had been the traitor, Voldemort wouldn't have needed the Fidelius Charm—he could've killed James any Tuesday."
Snape's face twisted. "You're actually defending him—"
Crash. Something banged against the door.
"Who's there!" Snape spun, wand up. "Alohomora!"
The door flew open. Light spilled into the empty corridor—overturned portrait, motionless suit of armor, nothing else.
Melvin set his cup down, strolled over, and leaned out casually.
Harry, frozen under the Cloak right in the doorway, stopped breathing.
He'd been listening just fine until Snape said he had feelings for Lily. The shock had made him stumble into the door.
Under Professor Lewinter's calm, bottomless gaze Harry felt completely naked—like the man could see straight through the Cloak and into his skull.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. If Snape found him eavesdropping on this he'd get Obliviated into next week.
But Melvin just smiled faintly.
"It's cold out there," he said quietly. "Come in and listen."
Before Harry could bolt, an invisible hand tugged him inside and shut the door.
Harry's brain screamed: Obliviate! Or worse!
"Nothing to worry about," Melvin said smoothly, steering Harry to stand by the wall. "Just Mrs. Norris doing her rounds."
He sat back down like nothing had happened and picked up the conversation exactly where it left off.
"Actually, I've always thought the whole thing was strange," Melvin said. "Peter Pettigrew—only one finger left behind? Muggle bodies were recoverable after that blast. Why was Peter the only one vaporized? And at point-blank range he couldn't even throw up a shield?"
Snape frowned. "That coward didn't have the guts to block with his body."
"And Sirius," Melvin continued. "Everyone says he lost his mind laughing in the street. Yet when I visited Azkaban the Aurors told me plenty of prisoners go genuinely insane under the Dementors—babbling, empty shells. Sirius was lucid. Chatted with the guards. Did the Prophet crossword."
"Tonks said the same thing today," Snape muttered. "The Dementors barely touched him."
Lupin shot Melvin a sharp look—his heart and head both starting to ache.
He knows perfectly well why the Dementors didn't affect Sirius—he's an unregistered Animagus! That's also how he escaped, how he's dodging pursuit, and how he attacked Ron as a big black dog!
Melvin ignored the look and kept going. "One more thing I've never understood—if the Fidelius Charm is that unbreakable, why not make Dumbledore the Secret-Keeper?"
Both Snape and Lupin turned to him.
The strongest wizard alive, leader of the Order, absolutely loyal—why on earth wouldn't James and Lily pick him?
Lupin sighed. "Albus offered. James… we were young. Thought friendship was stronger than sense."
"Idiotic," Snape snapped.
Harry, still invisible and glued to the wall, privately agreed.
"I've found hints Peter might still be alive," Lupin said wearily, rubbing his temples. "I need to confirm. Can we leave it here for tonight?"
Snape said nothing, just glanced at the window. The full moon had slipped free of the clouds, silver light pouring into the room.
They were about to stand when a silvery phoenix glided through the window—long elegant tail feathers, proud bearing. It opened its beak and Dumbledore's voice rang out clear:
"Severus, Melvin—to the Gryffindor common room, immediately. Black has broken into the castle."