They invited Snape! But not me!
Sirius Black was in a right foul mood.
While he didn't have much interest in a Dursley family get-together, he absolutely wanted to be with Harry.
So, Sirius turned to Harry: "Harry, I—"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but that's a family gathering."
Harry said this with no mercy, his displeasure practically leaping off the page.
Ever since Sirius pulled out his wand and pointed it at Vernon, Harry's opinion of him had plummeted.
For a bloke he hadn't seen in over a decade to suddenly show up, you couldn't expect Harry to be all smiles and sunshine.
A godfather appointed by his parents?
Well, his parents were gone, weren't they? How could he know if Sirius was telling the truth?
The only reason Harry helped clear Sirius's name was to see Peter Pettigrew face the justice he deserved, not to do Sirius a favour.
Hearing Harry's words, Sirius looked utterly devastated.
Why does Snape get to go, and I don't?
Snape, for his part, felt an immense sense of glee, a fact that was evident in his voice.
"Mr. Black, fresh from prison, I believe we should be going, unless there's something else you need... Don't interrupt our family gathering."
He made a point to emphasize "family gathering."
Sirius's temper flared. "You want a fight, Snivellus?"
He taunted Snape: "I'll hang you up! Just like back then, with the spell you invented! Now there's no Lily to come save you!"
When Snape heard Sirius's words, particularly "hang you up," "back then," and "Lily," his face went instantly dark.
That memory was the one he least wanted to revisit.
From the wide cuff of his sleeve, he pulled out his wand.
Thirteen-and-a-half inches, birch wood, with a snake nerve core.
"Mr. Dursley, give me two minutes. I've got a bit of rubbish to deal with first."
He spoke slowly and deliberately, but the suppressed rage in his voice was unmistakable.
Seeing Snape's actions, Sirius was thrilled and twirled his wand with a flourish.
He was going to teach Snape a lesson.
"Alright," Vernon said, watching them with a touch of curiosity. He'd never seen wizards duel before. Honestly, he was hoping Snape would win; this Black fellow was truly insufferable.
What happens when Sirius and Snape face off?
A moment later...
The same Sirius who had been so full of bluster was now hanging upside down, stiff as a board, on the Platform at King's Cross Station. The look of utter shock was frozen on his face.
What a proper dolt.
He was still stuck in the past, thinking Snape was at most his equal and that he could easily win.
He didn't realize that he had spent twelve years rotting away in Azkaban, never casting a single spell, while Snape had used those twelve years wisely.
Snape was now a renowned Potions Master and an elite duellist. He didn't even need a potion to take down Sirius.
The difference was like a professor trouncing a student; there was no doubt who would win.
Vernon looked with contempt at the upside-down Sirius.
He thought this guy was some powerful wizard, but he was just a miserable pipsqueak.
He was probably no match for even Dudley... or maybe even Harry.
This thought crossed Vernon's mind.
At Harry's current skill level, Sirius truly might not be able to beat him.
Although Snape had just taught Sirius a sound lesson, his face was like a sheet of ice, etched with profound unhappiness due to the memories Sirius had brought up.
The Grump... ahem, Snape followed Dudley and the others into Mr. Dursley's new car.
Yes, another new car. This one was much bigger and could seat eight people.
Snape, still in a foul mood, sat in the back. As a half-blood wizard, he wasn't really bothered by Muggle transport.
Poor Sirius remained hanging upside down even after the Dursleys left, and King's Cross Station closed for the night after the last train departed.
As the doors slowly shut and the lights went out, the entire station was plunged into darkness.
Sirius was in for a truly unforgettable night.
---
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts...
With the holidays here, most of the students and staff had gone home. The castle was left with only Dumbledore, McGonagall, Trelawney, Madam Pince, and Filch, who made Hogwarts their home (Hagrid lived in his hut).
The huge castle, once so lively, was now eerily quiet. Even the ghosts didn't care to wander its empty corridors.
Caretaker Filch didn't have to patrol until the wee hours and didn't have to worry about students sneaking out after curfew.
He could rest easy, curled up by the fire with Mrs. Norris, enjoying a rare bit of peace.
But this peace also brought a touch of loneliness, like a solitary old man with no family to visit.
Professor McGonagall had already gone to bed. She was getting on in years and didn't have the same energy. Besides, she was going to Hogsmeade early the next morning to pay her respects to her late husband.
In the library, Madam Pince was meticulously wiping down every book, then sorting them neatly back onto the shelves.
In the staff quarters, Trelawney was staring intently into a crystal ball, hoping to see the future. She seemed to fail, so she poured herself a cup of tea, stirring the dregs with her finger, trying to find a secret within the messy leaves... but she seemed to fail again.
I am the descendant of the great Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. I can do this. I can see the future, I...
"I see death!"
Trelawney proclaimed, her voice full of sudden cheer, as if she really had seen something.
In truth, the crystal ball in her hands was no different from any other; it only reflected her own image.
Dumbledore was also holding a crystal ball, his eyes lost in thought. But unlike Trelawney, his gaze was filled with a mix of nostalgia and remembrance.
After a long time, he let out a soft sigh and put the crystal ball away.
This was no ordinary crystal ball; it was a Orb of Prophecy. It held a single prophecy.
Prophecies...
The most mysterious things in the wizarding world.
It was for a prophecy that Voldemort had gone after the Potters, only to meet his own end.
However, this Orb had nothing to do with that prophecy. Dumbledore had received it three years ago, the day before Harry and his friends were to start at Hogwarts.
It was sent by an old friend with the blood of a Seer.
The letter had been sent from...
Nurmengard.
Once the headquarters of a certain dark wizard, it was now a prison on par with Azkaban.
And for decades, it had held only one wizard.