With a loud pop, Sirius Black appeared on the road in Hogsmeade with his cloak tattered by bushes and covered in leaves and burrs. What was once a dignified wizard's robe now looked like it had been through a battle.
The sky had already darkened, and the streetlamps were glowing softly.
The Three Broomsticks Inn was nearby, and the smell of butterbeer and roasted meat was wafting out from it.
Sirius' stomach growled. He licked his lips but didn't let himself get distracted. The urgent intelligence he had just overheard left no room for delay—he headed straight toward Hogwarts.
This matter was too important. He had to report to Dumbledore in person.
As he winded through twisting alleys and walking the familiar path toward the school, the quiet surroundings grew more solemn. The trees lining the road reminded Sirius of his long pursuit of Wormtail.
He ground his teeth. It was as if he could still taste the blood of a live rat in his mouth.
—Once again, that vermin slipped away right under my nose…
Back at school, Sirius used to scoff at Wormtail's Animagus form and mocked it repeatedly.
But when it came to an actual confrontation, he finally realized just how troublesome it was to find someone who could turn into a rat.
Suddenly, something in his pocket began to twitch—like a restless rabbit.
Sirius pulled out the communication bean, and the moment he held it, the twitching stopped. He popped it into his ear and heard a thin voice inside:
"Harry Potter requesting a call… Harry Potter requesting a call…"
If it had been anyone else, Sirius would've hung up without hesitation. But since it was Harry, he answered immediately.
"Harry?" Sirius asked with concern. "How are things going?"
"Not bad. Aunt Petunia's making us all diet with Dudley, but people have been sending me snacks. Remus and Wade visited today too, so I'm not starving."
Harry didn't complain about the absurd meals the Dursleys had been serving lately. He skipped over that and quickly got to the point.
"I had a nightmare, Sirius."
"A nightmare?"
Calling your godfather who is in the middle of an important mission just because of a bad dream sounded more extreme than complaining about foster care abuse.
But Sirius didn't think Harry was overreacting. He asked patiently:
"What did you dream about?"
"I… I dreamed…"
Harry stared blankly at the spellbook he'd tossed on his desk the night before. Suddenly, he forgot what he was about to say.
The dream was fading fast, like a receding tide, but before the images disappeared completely, a sharp, burning pain flared across his scar.
That pain yanked at the edge of his fading memory—pulling something back into focus.
"I dreamed about Professor Lockhart."
Harry muttered, "He and that man from the newspaper—Gale Troka… were being tortured by me with the Cruciatus Curse…"
"Wait, by who?" Sirius immediately felt something was wrong and quickly asked.
"By me…"
Harry also found it unbelievable. He furrowed his brow, and struggled to recall the dream.
The imagery had been so vivid—the gut-wrenching screams, the raw pain—that he'd almost believed he had actually killed the two of them.
But what disturbed him more was that, in the dream, he hadn't felt a shred of guilt or hesitation. He had been cold… cruel… even slightly pleased…
It was as if some devil was hiding deep inside him.
Harry instinctively swallowed that feeling and vaguely said, "I dreamed I was torturing them… and I think I saw a really big snake too…"
Sirius was silent for a long while.
Lockhart and Gale… Sirius had watched them walk into that old house—and they didn't come back out.
Judging by "Barty's" tone, they'd likely been tricked by Peter Pettigrew and were turned into offerings—sacrifices for Voldemort.
But… this just happened. How could Harry see it so clearly in a dream, right after?
And from the sound of it, he saw everything from Voldemort's point of view—even things Idon't know, like what happened after they entered the house.
The eerie nature of it all filled Sirius with a deep sense of unease.
His silence made Harry more nervous too. He started to worry that maybe calling like this had made him seem jumpy or immature in his godfather's eyes.
So Harry quickly added, "When I woke up, my scar was hurting again—it hasn't hurt in a really long time."
Sirius suddenly stopped in his tracks, as if time had frozen. For a long moment, he couldn't say a word—only the sound of his slightly shaky breathing remained came through.
He felt like he had just brushed up against something important—some fleeting thought flickered through his mind—
But the inspiration was gone before he could grasp it.
In a daze, he felt as if he was standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by towering bookshelves, with the scent of parchment and ink in the air. His fingers could feel a delicate, soft texture, faintly warm.
And in his ear, a young voice—Regulus—seemed to echo: "Sirius, what are you doing here?"
…
"Sirius? Sirius?"
No voice came from the communication bean for a long while—only the faint sound of wind.
Harry took the bean out, glanced at it uncertainly, then put it back in his ear and called again, "Sirius?"
"I'm here." Sirius took a deep breath and said, "I was just on my way to see Dumbledore. I'll ask him—see if he knows why your scar is hurting again."
Harry sounded a bit embarrassed. "Am I… maybe overreacting a little? It only hurt for a few minutes. Maybe it's nothing—just in my head..."
"No, Harry," Sirius said seriously. "No one else in the wizarding world has survived the Killing Curse like you did. Any change to that scar is never a small matter!"
"Alright," Harry replied, not very convincingly. "It doesn't hurt anymore now anyway… don't worry."
Even as he said it, Harry didn't really believe the pain was insignificant.
Sirius didn't say "It's probably nothing" like others might have—instead, he treated it with great importance. That, more than anything, made Harry feel comforted. His earlier anxiety and heaviness lifted.
He tried to recall more details from the dream and told them to Sirius. After the call ended, Harry lay back down, pulled up the covers, and drifted off to sleep feeling more at ease.
Sirius, on the other hand, stood outside the towering castle and looked at it with a grave face. He raised his wand and sent a signal toward someone inside.
Before long, Hagrid came over carrying a lantern, and with a creaking sound, pushed open the wooden door.
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