The night was deepening.
The castle was still brightly lit. Looking in from the marble staircase at the Entrance Hall, one could see the warm glow of candlelight. Occasional puffs of blue smoke from Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks drifted out. The windows and doors were draped with colorful streamers, and sprigs of holly and mistletoe were pinned to the walls.
Ghosts, their translucent, pearly-white bodies passing through walls, glided around with candles and torches "inside" them, quietly savoring the faint warmth while tinting the light a pale, spectral blue.
The warmth radiating from the fireplace pulled Lupin's thoughts back to reality. Standing in the corridor at the entrance to the Great Hall, he had never imagined a Christmas night could feel so long.
Now that he was back in reality, he couldn't help but think about the future. When he first received Dumbledore's offer, he had been reluctant to accept. It was only after the Headmaster promised Wolfsbane Potion to help him through the full moons, and assured him that those in the know would keep his secret, that he agreed to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.
But now his identity as a werewolf had been leaked. Inevitably, he had to consider whether he should stay.
Since his school days, he had disobeyed the Headmaster's instructions, leaving the Shrieking Shack to roam the grounds with James and the others. As a teacher, he had continued to hide the truth about their Animagus forms. He felt he had let Dumbledore down in too many ways.
Before, he could bury his head in the sand like an ostrich and deceive himself. But now that the children knew about his lycanthropy, and the truth about Sirius and Peter was out, he felt he had no reason to remain.
Looking at the brightly lit Great Hall, Lupin unconsciously slowed his steps, somewhat afraid to face the Headmaster.
"..."
The Head Boy was brandishing a rock-hard frozen baguette, swearing to put a few holes in his brothers' heads as the three of them chased each other through the corridors, laughing.
"Merlin's beard... we were fighting for our lives in a spacetime rift, and they're here enjoying the Christmas feast..."
Ron muttered indignantly, slightly out of breath as he climbed the steps back into the castle. "Laugh while you can, Percy, George, Fred. Make the most of your time. When Mum finds out the truth about Scabbers, she's going to break your legs."
"Why?" Harry couldn't understand.
"We don't have food to spare. We never keep pets like rats or toads—lazy, good-for-nothing animals that don't do chores. It was Percy who insisted on adopting Scabbers. He had good grades and was a prefect, so Mum and Dad wouldn't say no to him. That's how he got the privilege... and now we find out Scabbers is actually a Dark Wizard in disguise."
Ron raised an eyebrow, his face full of schadenfreude.
With Bill and Charlie working away from home, Percy was the only "model student" left in the house, constantly praised by their parents. Plus, Percy was a bit of a show-off. Though he didn't say it outright, his smugness had long made him the "public enemy" of his siblings.
"Are you sure you want to tell them? You lived with Scabbers for so long. George and Fred saw it all. They'll definitely make fun of you... for at least six months," Harry pointed out.
Ron's expectant expression froze, his face turning as sour as if he'd swallowed a fly.
"I have an idea..."
Lupin, who had intentionally lagged behind, heard them talking and suddenly offered a suggestion. "You need to keep the matter of Peter Pettigrew secret for now. Make a deal with George and Fred privately. Tell them you have dirt on Percy and make them promise not to tease you in the future before you tell them the details."
"I'll go find them right now. You guys keep it a secret too, don't tell them yet." Ron ran off immediately.
Lupin watched them enter the Great Hall with a smile. Seeing the young wizards' trivial worries and schemes reminded him of his own school days.
"Hmm... that is a good idea."
Harry nodded in agreement, but he felt something was off. This way of handling things felt strangely familiar. "Make a deal, then give a promise."
Just as Harry was trying to place the feeling, he heard Nearly Headless Nick greeting Professor Levent.
He looked up and saw the young professor walking into the Great Hall. His posture was upright. He had just returned from the snowy grounds, yet there was no trace of snow or ice on him. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if he were always this calm and composed.
Harry's eyes suddenly widened. He remembered the promise Professor Levent had made at the start of the term.
Back then, the professor hadn't wanted to reveal too much, so he sent Harry to investigate the truth about his parents' death, promising that afterwards, he would let Harry see his mother with his own eyes.
"Professor... Professor Levent."
Harry ran up to him, his heart pounding. He hadn't been this nervous even when facing Boggarts and Dementors. He called out to the young professor, "Do you remember the investigation task you gave me at the start of the term?"
"Yes, I remember."
Harry couldn't help but get excited, his breathing quickening. "Can I really see my mum?"
"You can, but not now. Give it a couple of days. I need to prepare."
"It won't be a Boggart transformation, will it?"
"No."
"Is it... a potion to give me a good dream?"
"No."
"Did my mum leave a magical portrait?"
"..."
Melvin stopped walking and looked down at the Boy Who Lived. Joyful light danced in Harry's emerald green eyes. He asked his questions carefully, like a young animal.
"I mean, I will let you see your mother's soul. Not a ghost, not a portrait, not any false illusion, but her true soul, returning temporarily from the land of the dead for a brief reunion with you."
"This... I... Professor..."
Harry was stunned with surprise and joy, frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.
The group walked into the Great Hall. The feast was still ongoing. At the High Table, the professors looked up at the pale-faced Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who was lagging behind. Glasses had clinked countless times; whisky had turned to brandy, eggnog to mead, and now the goblets were filled with crimson wine.
Professor Flitwick raised his glass and called out to Lupin, "Remus, come quickly! We're drinking wine. I say it's Bordeaux, Pomona insists it's Burgundy, and Dumbledore is even worse—he claims it's Spanish! Your palate is sharper, come and taste it."
"..."
Lupin paused, looking up to meet the Headmaster's bright blue eyes. The corners of Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with a gentle, affectionate smile.
It was just like the night he received his Hogwarts letter. This professor had visited his home personally, sitting in the chair by the fireplace with that same kind smile.
Dumbledore smiled and said, "Merry Christmas, Remus."
Before Lupin could reply, two red-headed twins rushed over, shoving Lupin in front of them like a shield to block the now-cold and hard baguette wielded by Percy.
"Whoa! Professor, save us! Percy's trying to murder his own brothers!"
Just then, a log cracked in the fireplace, sending sparks flying. The warmth from the hearth washed over his exhausted body, chasing away the chill.
---
Transparent glass goblets held crimson wine, the color exceptionally vibrant in the candlelight. Pouring from the decanter was an old witch wearing a pointed hat.
At the High Table, Professor McGonagall stood up and offered the seats on either side of Dumbledore, gesturing for Melvin and Lupin to sit.
The Headmaster poured wine for them personally. The debate about the wine's origin had long been set aside. The Heads of Houses sat quietly nearby, waiting for their story.
"Begin, Melvin, Remus. Take us into the story of the dark night, chasing that frivolous and tempting enchantress..." Meeting McGonagall's stern gaze, Dumbledore paused slightly. "...into your thrilling adventure."
Melvin took a sip of wine. He felt less like he was in a school Great Hall and more like he was at a bar in some tavern.
Lupin put away his melancholy and began to recount the events.
From the Whomping Willow to the Astronomy Tower, then to the terrace in the lost land. It was a story he had already told several times, so retelling it made it even more coherent and detailed. In Lupin's voice, it was quite captivating.
"Truly... an inconceivable journey." A look of reverence appeared in Dumbledore's eyes.
"Hmm." Melvin nodded.
"The story ended during dessert at the feast. You protagonists left halfway through to embark on your journey. When the story began, the house-elves had just put the pumpkins in the pot. Severus could smell the pumpkin soup, yet the entire plot had already been written."
Flitwick stood on his high stool, shaking his head and sighing like a bard, though his high-pitched voice made him sound more like a theater announcer.
McGonagall had seen Sirius that night and was prepared for a hidden truth, but hearing it revealed now still left her dazed.
Sprout was also lost in thought. She remembered the mischievous deeds of James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter during their school days. After so long, those experiences of friendship, betrayal, and courage sounded like they belonged to another world.
"No wonder Severus hinted for Melvin to leave... I knew it wasn't that simple..."
The Herbology professor couldn't help muttering, "But why didn't you just say so?"
"Pomona, time is a very wondrous thing, as magical as magic itself. Any tiny vibration can trigger a hurricane on a longer timescale."
Dumbledore answered unhurriedly, "To ensure the entire adventure formed a perfect, seamless loop, Severus couldn't reveal too much information."
"So where are Sirius and Pettigrew now?"
"In the dungeon Potions classroom. I sealed the door. Outside the walls is the frozen Black Lake. The ice is deep and solid. If Black or Peter try to break the window to escape, even as a dog or a rat, they'll only drown in the lake."
Snape said this lightly.
"Sounds cruel... if you ignore the fact that you left them two Christmas dinners," Dumbledore said with a beaming smile.
Snape pursed his lips and fell silent.
The others couldn't help but smile. Dumbledore rose slowly, taking off his witch's hat. "Let's go. It's time to see our old friends from the Order of the Phoenix."
---
Deep in the night, Potions Classroom Dungeon
Gray-black rock formed the walls—actually a single massive stone transfigured into shape. The ceiling was vaulted and nearly twenty feet high. The dim candlelight gave the room an indescribable sense of oppression.
Marble workbenches were scattered throughout the classroom, topped with cauldrons of various materials and all sorts of ingredients. Returning to this room after more than a decade, everything looked exactly the same.
"Wormtail, honestly, I didn't want to play with you in the beginning. You looked like you lacked courage. Very cowardly."
Sirius was lying sprawled on the lecturer's desk. He had moved Snape's cauldron aside, and jars of ingredients were piled on the floor.
The room was filled with the sweet scent of pumpkin. Snape had kept his word and left two Christmas dinners. Not a lavish feast, but plenty of food. The kitchen was nearby, so the pumpkin juice in the cups refilled automatically after being drunk, as did the food on the silver platters.
Peter Pettigrew squatted on the floor at the other end of the classroom. Having eaten and drunk his fill, he held a cup of hot pumpkin juice and said nothing.
"Peter, when did Voldemort find you?" Sirius asked.
"..."
"Why would Voldemort find you? I remember everyone looked out for you. Whenever there was a dangerous or difficult mission, you didn't even have to ask—James and Remus, and occasionally me, would volunteer to take it for you so you wouldn't be in a tough spot."
Sirius couldn't figure it out. He sat up. "You never showed your face in public, never participated in any direct combat. Voldemort shouldn't have even noticed you."
He frowned, staring hard at Peter. "You went to Voldemort willingly, didn't you?"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me..." Peter shrank back into the corner, Sirius's gaze making his skin crawl.
"Don't lie!" Sirius roared furiously. "Before Lily and James died, for at least a year, the Order's missions kept failing. You were passing information to him since then! You were his spy!"
"You don't understand, Sirius! If I didn't do it, he would have killed me..."
"Then die! So many people died during the war. Everyone faced that choice! Dying is better than betraying your friends!"
"You think I didn't want to hold out?"
Peter instinctively retorted, but seeing Sirius's enraged face, he pulled his neck back in and whispered excuses. "But I didn't have that courage. The Dark Lord possesses dark magic you can't imagine. He's crueler and colder than you think..."
"Then why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you seek Dumbledore's protection? You had countless opportunities!"
"I told you, I'm not brave like you lot."
Peter argued defensively, "The Sorting Hat put me in Gryffindor to find the courage buried inside me. But you never gave me a chance! You just dragged me along to skip class, wander at night, and fool around. After graduation, you always took it upon yourselves to do the glorious missions in my place. Everyone looked down on me, even you... You played a part in James and Lily's death too."
"Still unrepentant." Sirius laughed in anger. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck in the dim classroom, preparing to teach this dirty rat a lesson.
He slowly cornered Peter. Just as he was about to strike, Sirius suddenly stopped.
Rumble...
The heavy stone door at the front of the classroom opened.
---