It was late at night in the Gryffindor Tower.
Inside the frame, the chubby little pony was quietly munching on grass, his mouth dusted with brown-green foam. Sir Cadogan was pacing back and forth along the frame's edge, pondering a new password—a pastime for the knight and his mount while on duty.
It was quiet both inside and outside the Portrait Hole. All you could hear was the spitting sound of burning oil in the torches and lamps. Percy had already sent the students to their dorms before lights-out. Outside was the eighth-floor corridor of the castle, and any sounds from the grounds or courtyard were now faint, almost inaudible. Occasionally, a late-night breeze would sweep past the windows and down the corridor, making the torchlight flicker and the shadows dance.
There was nowhere to hide in the corridor; the gaps behind the statues and suits of armor were too narrow, allowing passage only to a pet cat chasing a mouse.
The silence was broken by slow footsteps, sounding like the short boots a student would get at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
The chubby pony's ears perked up, and the crunching of grass slowed as the footsteps approached. Sir Cadogan gripped his lance. It was past curfew; the young wizards were supposed to be in their dorms, and no one else should be returning from outside.
The footsteps paused in the shadow of the Portrait Hole. The newcomer stopped a few feet away, hesitating, apparently trying to recall the password:
"The beast whose heart is blinded by Dragon Dung?"
"Password correct..."
Even though he couldn't see the person's face clearly, Sir Cadogan remained wary. But the rules were the rules; he had to follow school regulations and open the door for anyone who gave the correct password. The stone blocking the Portrait Hole began to grind open.
The light from the common room shone onto the late-night visitor's face. Sir Cadogan kept his lance pointed at the figure, and the chubby pony looked up, then suddenly froze.
Standing in the Portrait Hole was an ordinary student, one who had grown a few inches over the summer and lost some baby fat, though his face still held a hint of boyish shyness. It was Neville Longbottom, a third-year and the head of the Drama Club. They were old friends.
Neville scratched the back of his neck. "Sir Cadogan, it's me. I couldn't find my password list, so I went out to the corridor to look for it."
"But you remembered the password, didn't you?" Sir Cadogan wondered.
"I did... but I can't just not look for something I lost, can I?"
"Why didn't you use a Summoning Charm, then?"
"The Summoning Charm has a range limit. I'm not Professor [Leiwen Te]; my spell can't cover the whole castle, just about one floor." Neville looked embarrassed, standing awkwardly in the doorway, hoping to win Cadogan's forgiveness.
"Well, did you find it?"
"No..." Neville looked flustered. "I was casting the charm and searching at the same time, and I startled Mr. Filch on the second floor. I was worried he'd mistake me for a midnight wanderer, so I came straight back."
Sir Cadogan lowered his lance and waved a hand impatiently. "You were wandering at night, weren't you? It's too late, you know! Just go back to bed and look again tomorrow. Or better yet, stop writing those lists. You can remember the password now."
"I'm afraid I'll forget again sometime. If I keep the password with me, I feel safer." Neville offered another shy smile.
"You just lack confidence, boy! You don't want to trust yourself—you lack the courage to charge a dragon! Go search the common room again. Hopefully, it's not up in your dorm." Sir Cadogan grumbled as he opened the Portrait Hole all the way.
Neville nodded, said goodnight, and crawled through the tunnel behind the stone block.
He emerged into the common room and looked around. It was the dead of night, and the only light came from a few half-burned candles and the glowing embers in the fireplace.
There was a rug in front of the fireplace, reserved for pets. Animals, including Crookshanks and Trevor, sometimes curled up there for warmth.
The Gryffindor Common Room was spacious, filled with comfortable armchairs and sofas, cozy like a cottage out of a fairy tale. The windows were shut, keeping it warm, though the occasional opening of the Portrait Hole let in a breath of fresh air.
Just as Neville picked Trevor up from the rug, he heard the low rumbling of the massive stone shifting behind him.
Someone else was coming back.
---
The black dog moved with light, quick steps through a pitch-black staircase, keeping close to the wall and the shadows, guided only by the scattered moonlight and the candle glow from passing portraits.
The staircases of this castle felt like a magical maze; they never stopped moving, rotating and connecting with a set rhythm. Most students had to wait for the right moment to dash through, like waiting for a Muggle traffic light.
Only a few students knew the trick hidden within the chaos—how to use the stair rotations to find a quicker, more convenient shortcut.
The black dog felt a wave of nostalgia for this feeling.
Back when they were students at Hogwarts, his dormitory mates were usually the last to leave the tower, yet they always managed to arrive at the Great Hall or their classrooms ahead of everyone else, almost never losing House Points for tardiness.
Returning to the castle sixteen years later, he felt a secret blessing of luck; every turn and landing of the spiral stairs was just right, as if the castle itself was welcoming him.
But on the eighth floor, he got a strange feeling—as if several unseen pairs of eyes were watching him in the darkness. A wizard's keen instinct told him to turn back, not to proceed.
He remembered the Marauders' many late-night wanderings through the castle. That timid, stout companion of theirs was always hiding at the back, head bowed, his eyes dark and shifty.
Just like he'd looked when he'd blown up those twelve Muggles on a busy street.
"Meow..."
A deeply penetrating cat's cry echoed through the dark, silent stairway, bouncing off the walls. The black dog's heart stopped for a second. Had the caretaker's pet cat and search assistant caught up to him?
No bulging, lamp-like eyes. No pouncing claws.
The meowing was coming from ahead. It wasn't the caretaker's cat.
The black dog paused, took a few deep breaths, and slowly peered into the narrow gap behind a statue. The meowing came from there.
"Meow?"
A big, ginger cat, with a smashed-in, squashed-face (like a flat persimmon, if you looked close), had a roll of parchment pinned under its front paw. It pushed it forward.
"The Gryffindor password list?" The black dog's eyes lit up.
"Meow?"
Crookshanks nodded. His squashed-in face then adopted a very human expression of confusion. Why had the dog been so scared when it heard the meow? Was Filch chasing him?
"Woof..."
The cat and dog huddled together and exchanged whispers. A few minutes later, they had a plan: Crookshanks would go and distract Mrs. Norris, while Sirius continued upstairs to deal with Scabbers once and for all.
---
Climbing the spiral stairs, he arrived at the castle's eighth floor. Exiting the staircase led to a branching corridor. He cautiously avoided the path to the Headmaster's office, then the portraits of Barney the Barmy and the troll, and finally, the end of the last hallway led to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower.
The route passed through a semi-open outer balcony. Moonlight spilled through the railing, creating stripes of shadow on one side and silvery light on the other.
The black dog, holding the list in his mouth, walked down the middle. His form passed between the shadow and the silver, his shadow stretching out long, twisting and swaying as he moved from one side to the other, like an escaped convict swimming across the North Sea, finally reaching shore.
When he reached the corner of the hallway, the black dog stood up and shifted back into a tall, gaunt human figure, the password list clutched in his hand.
The portrait at the entrance had been replaced; the knight on the small horse was there instead of the Fat Lady. That knight used to constantly issue strange challenges to students and shout noisy commands, yet he always helped lost first-years find their way.
His name was Cadogan, wasn't it?
"I guess he's ready with the password this time," Sirius thought, remembering the Fat Lady he had angrily ripped apart, feeling a sudden pang of guilt.
He lowered his head and walked up to the hole, muttering indistinctly: "The beast whose heart is blinded by Dragon Dung."
"Another night wanderer! Can't any of you behave?"
Sir Cadogan grumbled, then stepped aside, letting the stone block move. As Sirius entered, the knight saw the list and figured it must be Neville's friend, who had found the list and brought it back.
---
Neville turned back towards the Portrait Hole. Standing there was a tall, skinny figure, lurking in the shadows. He was wearing a dark, gray-black robe and holding a roll of parchment.
"Are you a seventh-year student, just coming back from wandering?"
"Uh-huh..."
Hearing the reply, Neville eyed the figure up and down skeptically. He should at least be familiar with the face of a seventh-year Gryffindor, even if he couldn't name them. This figure looked utterly unfamiliar.
And that roll of parchment... it felt very familiar.
Suspecting something, Neville waved his wand and whispered:
$$\text{Accio List}$$
The parchment ripped out of the figure's hand and flew straight into Neville's grasp. The passwords were neatly written on it, every stroke a familiar handwriting.
The person walked into the common room, finally exposed to the candlelight. His face was covered with a scraggly beard, his long hair was black and messy. His eyes were dark and desolate, his face thin and haggard. His footsteps were slow, like a gasping hound. His iron-gray eyes scanned the room indifferently.
Neville's gaze locked onto his face. A cold sweat broke out on his back, and he froze stiffly in place.
That face had been in the newspaper, though it was an old photo. But those striking eyes hadn't changed.
"Sirius... Black..."
"Thanks for your help, getting me back here. The last time I set foot in the Gryffindor common room was sixteen years ago..."
Sirius tried to keep his voice from sounding too hoarse. He was trying to get the young wizard to relax. After all, he wasn't some vicious Death Eater, and he wasn't even carrying a wand. He didn't want to hurt any innocent student, and he didn't want his whereabouts exposed.
But this Gryffindor student was stubborn, reckless, and brave, just like the ones he went to school with.
Within seconds of realizing who the escaped convict was, Neville regained his focus. He knew he was no match for Black alone, and the dormitories were too soundproof for anyone to hear him call for help.
He had to make a huge racket, something that would warn Sir Cadogan.
Neville used the parchment in his hand to cover his wand, quietly aiming the tip at the Portrait Hole.
"The Longbottom kid. You're not a very good actor. Shielding your wand with the list was clever, but your eyes keep darting to what's behind me. That gives away your plan."
Sirius kept a safe distance, trying not to provoke the student. "I have to warn you, the walls of Hogwarts are magically reinforced. Even a third-year wizard casting with all their might won't cause much of a commotion. Sir Cadogan might not even notice."
Neville thought for a few seconds, then silently lowered the list covering his wand, though he remained on guard.
"Even if Sir Cadogan noticed your warning, it would take him a few minutes to go through the other portraits and notify a professor. Before the professors arrive, I'd have plenty of time to go upstairs and finish what I came for, then hide outside the common room. But please believe me..."
Sirius looked Neville in the eye. "I have no intention of harming anyone. Not you, not your roommates, not your classmates."
"What about... Harry?" Neville asked weakly.
"Harry..." Sirius's eyes darkened. "I care about him more than anyone in the world. I want him to live a long life. I'm his godfather."
"Then why are you sneaking into the castle?"
Sirius looked hesitant, speaking very slowly. "Harry is your roommate, and so is Ron Weasley, right?"
Neville looked at the fugitive's face, momentarily unable to respond.
Sirius noticed that the boy seemed to be wavering and breathed a sigh of relief. "I have no plans to harm them. It's just that there's a rat near him..."
$$\text{Stupefy!}$$
$$\text{Sectumsempra!}$$
$$\text{Incendio!}$$
The moment the light burst from the wand tip, Sirius reacted instantly. He darted forward, closing the distance, dodging the surprise attack while snatching Neville's wand, and simultaneously hitting the boy with a stunning spell.
An adult wizard's close-range attack was too fast for a third-year to counter. Neville could only lift his arm to block in a rush, then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the rug.
Just then, the cutting curse hit the wall with a dull thud, and the flame spell hit the sofa, leaving only a few sparks that burned some black marks but failed to ignite anything.
Sirius waited quietly for a moment, making sure no one had been disturbed. Then he looked down at the boy lying on the rug, a small smile playing on his lips, amused by Neville's seemingly innocent demeanor.
The hesitation before had just been a performance to make him drop his guard. The kid had been planning all along to cause a commotion and warn Cadogan and the others upstairs.
"A Longbottom through and through. You've definitely inherited your parents' stubbornness."
Sirius sighed, glancing at the wand in his hand: thirteen inches, cherry wood, with a unicorn hair core. "I'm borrowing this. I'll give it right back."
He pulled a blanket over Neville and tucked him in before heading up the staircase to the boys' dormitory.
The footsteps slowly faded away.
Neville's eyes flickered a few times. He suddenly sat up, pulled the unconscious Trevor out of his sleeve, patted the toad's head, and scrambled towards the Portrait Hole, shouting in alarm:
"Sir Cadogan! Sir Cadogan!"
"Go warn the Headmaster! Black has broken into the castle!"
---
Melvin and Hagrid finished patrolling the third floor and were leisurely heading up to the fourth.
The wizards in the portraits on both sides of the corridor were fast asleep. Occasionally, a ghost hiding in a suit of armor would poke its head out and greet them. The night at Hogwarts was quiet and peaceful.
A series of horse-hoof beats rang out. The knight in the portrait kept crossing the boundaries of the frames, as Sir Cadogan's frantic shout echoed through the castle:
"Black has broken into the castle!"