Urgent footsteps echoed on the staircase on the eighth floor of the castle.
The half-giant struggled to take wide strides. He crossed what would normally be dozens of stairs in just four or five steps. His heavy footfalls resonated in the stairwell, sounding like a beating drum.
Fang, the hound, panted closely behind his master, finally stopping at the staircase exit. Melvin followed at a measured pace and saw that people were already waiting there.
Professors Flitwick and Sprout—both Heads of House—were still in their pajamas. The goblin-mixed Charms Professor, small in stature, had already misbuttoned the few buttons on his top. The Herbology Professor's collar was slightly crumpled.
It was clear that both professors were anxious about the students' safety and had rushed to the scene the moment the alarm sounded, not even taking the time to tidy their clothes.
Flitwick and Sprout stared worriedly toward the tower, their faces etched with concern. Even though they were just standing guard, they had no mind to fix their attire; they desperately wanted to know what was happening.
"Melvin, Hagrid, you're here," Flitwick said without turning his head.
"Filius, Pomona, why aren't you going over there?" Hagrid sounded slightly winded from running.
Sprout turned to look at them. "Remus and Severus got there faster than us. They've already rushed toward the Gryffindor Tower. They told us to hold the staircase, making sure Black couldn't escape this way."
"How are you all faster than us? Is the duel starting over there? We need to hurry and help!"
"Remus and Severus don't need any help. You two need to hurry to the other staircase channel so Black doesn't escape again."
Indeed, they didn't need to worry. One was a Werewolf Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the other was a Potions Master and dark wizard who had long coveted the DADA post. Snape and Lupin cooperating to corner an escaped convict—one who had been tormented in Azkaban for years and hadn't held a wand—meant the scales of victory were heavily tipped.
"Oh, oh, right!"
Hagrid let out a sigh of relief and immediately started running again, causing the floor to tremble.
Hogwarts covers thousands of acres and has two staircases connecting to the eighth floor. Running from one end to the other to seal off an escape route was like running around a Quidditch pitch several times.
Melvin wasn't in such a hurry. He watched Hagrid and Fang quickly disappear around the corridor corner, then suddenly remembered something. "By the way, have you seen the Headmaster?"
"Dumbledore and Minerva seem to have gone to Hogsmeade to meet with the Aurors stationed there because of last night's events."
"Ah, I see..."
Melvin was about to follow, but turned back to the two professors. They had been startled awake and hadn't even changed out of their pajamas; their faces still looked tired. "Don't worry, no one will get hurt."
"That's good..."
For no apparent reason, the two Heads of House believed this assurance and seemed much more at ease.
After a quick goodbye to the two professors guarding the door, Melvin walked on, finding it amusing. Lupin and Snape getting here so quickly suggested they were together when the incident occurred. He wondered if they had been experimenting with the interrogation effects of Veritaserum.
On the other hand, Dumbledore had used his Phoenix Patronus to notify them for patrol just an hour ago, so how could he not be at the school?
The Headmaster's office was also on the eighth floor. Having not shown up for so long, could he be hiding somewhere watching the show?
---
### 🌙 Night Terror
In a secluded valley at night, moonlight shone on a house outside of town.
Harry saw this scene again. Observing closely, it was in a valley with a small town and a church at its center. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't control his perspective in the dream to see more details.
He suddenly felt a sense of freefall, plummeting straight toward the front yard of the house.
It felt like knocking on the door, yet also like smashing through a window. The actions in the memory were very rude. The doors and windows in the later images were shattered, glass scattered everywhere, and cold moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating two familiar figures standing in front of a crib.
"No, don't..."
"Spare him, just him..."
The voices of the witch and wizard came from a great distance, ethereal and indistinct.
A heavy sadness welled up in Harry's heart, but from this viewpoint, he also felt a strange pleasure, finding joy in the terror displayed by the tormented man and woman. A peculiar urge arose within him to inflict greater pain on them.
"Ah... no!"
"Squeak!"
Harry suddenly woke up, feeling as if he had been struck by an overwhelming force. His body felt crushed, and his consciousness instantly separated from his body, lost in the darkness. Suppressing his panic, he fumbled for the curtains around his bed.
He heard movement in the dorm. Seamus had lit a lamp, and Ron and Dean were also awake.
"What's wrong?"
Ron had somehow tumbled off the bed and was lying on the floor, his blanket and pillow scattered everywhere. His face wore an expression of extreme terror. "Black! Sirius Black! He was pointing his wand at my heart!"
"What?"
"Right here! Just now! He pulled back my bed curtains and woke me up!"
"Are you having a nightmare?" Dean yawned.
"I am not!"
"Where's Neville?" Harry noticed the discrepancy first—one bed was empty.
The other roommates immediately scrambled out of bed and rushed out of the dorm door, sprinting down the stairs. Scrabbling noises came from the dormitories they passed; other students were being awakened as well.
There was a faint light still on in the common room. There were marks from a Splitting Charm on the wall, black burn marks on the sofa, Trevor the toad was lying unconscious on the rug, and the portrait hole stone door was ajar. The portrait was empty. Everywhere bore the trace of the fugitive Black's visit.
"Neville, Neville?!"
A surge of panic made Harry cry out, chasing out of the portrait hole.
"I'm here..." Neville hung his head, answering weakly.
Outside the portrait hole, Lupin and Snape were examining the traces in the corridor and gathering information from the students. When they heard that a wand had been stolen, both frowned.
"What else did he tell you?" Snape's face was grave, his dark eyes icy. "Which way did Black run after he came out?"
"He just said he didn't want to hurt any students, and wouldn't hurt innocent people, and asked me to say hello to Professor Lupin for him," Neville said, head down. "He ran down the right corridor. When he left, he said he was only borrowing the wand for a while, and would definitely return it when he had the chance."
"Leave the matter of Black to the professors, Neville, Harry. You two stay safely in the Tower," Lupin said, his face pale, yet still forcing himself to sound strong. "Have the Prefects check the lists to see if everyone is in their dorms, and if anyone is hurt... Don't run around!"
"Okay, Professor."
"..."
Harry felt completely rattled. He allowed Neville to pull him back to the common room, where he was immediately surrounded by other students, listening to Neville recount his miserable experience.
"I came back from outside and just happened to run into Black sneaking into the school..."
A chorus of gasps filled the common room.
---
### 🐾 A Duel of Old Scores
Could Sirius Black really escape?
The Marauders had explored the entire castle and knew its internal structure well. The eighth-floor corridor connects the Gryffindor Tower and the Headmaster's Office. With both staircases blocked, there were no secret passages leading elsewhere.
This hunt was a classic case of catching a turtle in a jar, which was why Snape was in no hurry.
If Sirius were captured just like this, he would be handed over to the Aurors before dawn to taste the Dementor's Kiss... Was this truly the right ending? Were there hidden circumstances about what happened that year? Perhaps the answer would be lost forever.
Lupin remained undecided, filled with hesitation.
The body striding quickly ahead suddenly stopped. The flickering torchlight cast dappled shadows in the corridor.
A faint, subtle odor hung in the enclosed corridor, not strong, but enough for the two pursuers to catch it. They followed the direction of the smell to the statue of the wizard Falco Aesalon, the first recorded Animagus in history.
The scent was clearly detectable coming from behind the statue—the smell of destitution and squalor accumulated from a life on the run.
"Stop hiding, Sirius Black. I can smell your stink, the stench of trash cans and sewers!" Snape said flatly.
The flickering torchlight suddenly paused, followed by the fugitive's sarcastic voice. "You'd know that smell, Snivellus. It used to be your smell. You tricked Dumbledore into hiding you in the school. Do you think you've washed clean?"
$Sectumsempra$
$Reducto$
The moment the invisible blade was released, the hidden Sirius emerged from behind the statue. He was wearing a black robe torn into shreds, clutching Neville's cherry-wood wand. His face was unshaven, revealing only his two hound-like eyes.
Lupin recognized his former friend instantly. He was no longer the handsome man he had been, clearly having undergone unimaginable hardship. Lupin should have immediately cast a spell to attack, but he was momentarily frozen.
Snape and Sirius's confrontation quickly escalated into a white-hot duel. Driven by hatred, the Potions Professor mercilessly unleashed a variety of sophisticated spells.
On the other side was a half-year escapee with a newly stolen wand. The unicorn hair core in the wand meant it prized loyalty, causing spells to be slightly sluggish. Combined with over a decade of not casting magic, Sirius was inevitably struggling, quickly falling behind. Defeat was becoming apparent.
"Sirius..." Lupin hesitated, then called his full name, "Black."
"Long time no see, Remus!" the other man answered heartily.
"There's something we don't know about the night James and Lily were killed, isn't there?"
"Silence! Why are you asking him now? Capture him! Veritaserum will give us the answer!" Snape sharply interrupted the old friends' reunion. His wand blurred, and spells whistled out, showering sparks.
Lupin looked at the familiar, yet unfamiliar face, and slowly raised his wand.
The tip began to glow faintly.
"So you're on Snivellus's side now, Remus?" Sirius's outer arm was sliced by a sharp edge. Blood splattered, and the wound wouldn't heal. Defeat was only a matter of time, but he still swung his wand fiercely, casting a spell.
Lupin remained silent for a moment, then quietly chanted a spell.
$Flippendo$
---
A few corridors away, outside the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were standing in the shadows beneath the torches, their forms shimmering with the magic of a Disillusionment Charm. They watched the battle from a distance. When they heard Sirius's taunts, their expressions varied.
The Headmaster seemed to recall the mischievous days of the four boys at school, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Professor McGonagall, however, frowned slightly, looking worried.
"We are a magical school responsible for teaching. Our primary duty is student safety," McGonagall pressed her lips together. "No matter what hidden circumstances surrounded the night James and Lily were attacked, it should be left to the Aurors to investigate. Sirius Black broke into the castle and stole a student's wand. Whether he intended to harm students or not, he must be restrained. I don't understand why we aren't helping."
"I am not entirely clear on Sirius's circumstances, and I understand any choice Remus makes," Dumbledore said slowly. "Melvin, however, promised me beforehand that no students would be harmed because of this. So, I thought we could afford to give him a little more patience."
"Are you suggesting Black isn't here to harm Harry, and has no ill will toward anyone else?"
"No..." Dumbledore shook his head. "Have you noticed, Minerva? Whether it was the raid in Hogsmeade or the attack in the Gryffindor dorm, his target seems to be Ronald."
"Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall finally grasped his meaning.
"Perhaps it's not Ronald himself, but something he possesses that interests Black," a beam of light flashed in Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes. The battle in the distance was already reaching its end.
$Flippendo$
They heard Lupin chanting the Knockback Jinx.
---
A bright green streak of light shot out.
It was just a Knockback Jinx, but it struck his chest, signaling the complete shift of the battle to one side.
Snape, without a second thought, whipped out a Disarming Charm. It was not a deadly spell and wouldn't cause injury. He needed Black alive to investigate the truth of Lily's death and to dose him with Veritaserum.
The cherry-wood wand flew out of his hand, spinning a few times in the air. The wound on his outer arm was still bleeding, and a few drops of crimson splashed, like wild flowers blooming in the night.
But where Snape's wand pointed, Black's figure had vanished.
The Knockback Jinx had sent his body flying backward, and the Disarming Charm added another push. The thin, light body recoiled dozens of feet, landing in the shadow against the wall.
Sirius transformed into his Animagus form in mid-air. Using the agility of the black dog's body, he adjusted his posture and landed steadily. The moment he found his footing, he pushed off fiercely with his hind legs, vanishing as a black shadow down the end of the corridor.
The entire sequence of changes took less than two seconds. The afterimage merged with the shadows, and before Snape could make out what had happened, the shadow had escaped his field of vision.
The quickly running figure created a rush of wind, causing the torches in the corridor to sway. The light and shadows flickered, making the corridor feel strangely quiet.
The cherry-wood wand finally hit the floor with a sharp, clear sound.
"Whether that was deliberate or not—"
Snape glared coldly at Lupin, "It doesn't change the fact that Black has nowhere to go. There are people blocking both staircases, and they don't have a history with Black. All I need to do is follow the blood trail..."
The wound carved by $Sectumsempra$ could never heal without his unique counter-curse.
The wind subsided, the flickering torchlight steadied, illuminating Lupin's pale face. He stood like a convict awaiting judgment in the middle of a courtroom, offering no defense.
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