In the dimly lit dungeon classroom, silver platters lay scattered on the floor. Bowls still held the remains of creamy mushroom soup, the rich fat emulsified into a milky suspension that gleamed under the candlelight. Two best friends from their student days were on the verge of a physical altercation.
One shrank back cowardly, neck pulled in; the other's eyes danced with rage.
Sirius stood before Peter, his tall, thin shadow stretching long across the floor, engulfing Peter in gloom. He turned his head toward the opening door.
"Graduated so many years ago, yet still brawling like students?" someone said from the doorway.
Sirius looked out and saw the old Headmaster with his silver hair and beard, followed by Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout.
When he had been lurking in the Forbidden Forest observing the castle, he had looked at these professors from afar. But seeing them face-to-face now, the clarity was different. They were all old wizards with profound magic and long lifespans, yet seeing them after so many years, he could still glimpse the marks time had left on them.
"Headmaster Dumbledore... Professor McGonagall..." Sirius couldn't describe the feeling in his heart at that moment.
Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House, stroked the beard on his chin. "Why not greet us? We were your professors too. Is it because we're not Gryffindors?"
Sirius was taken aback and spoke somewhat awkwardly. "Uh? Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Merry Christmas."
Snape silently took a step forward and adjusted his collar, highlighting the Slytherin serpent crest on his chest.
He didn't speak; everything was implied.
Sirius immediately glared. The other professors were old teachers who had guided and cared for him during his school days. What did this Snivellus mean by jumping out now?
Flitwick and Sprout chuckled.
Dumbledore came up to him, was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I am very sorry, Sirius. After Voldemort's fall, there were too many matters that occupied my attention, causing me to overlook your case. In the twelve years since, I never thought to investigate closely."
Sirius felt his eyes grow hot, and he called out hoarsely, "Headmaster Dumbledore."
The Black family had collapsed. Aside from two cousins who had married out, he had no other kin left in the world. Facing these professors now, he felt the poignant soreness a child feels upon seeing a parent.
Regret, joy, warmth, and a trace of unspeakable grievance.
Dumbledore patted his shoulder, then turned to look at the other student in the corner, his smile fading. "You should go back and visit your grandmother. She has aged very quickly these years."
At Dumbledore's age, having seen many elderly wizards, old Mrs. Pettigrew counted as relatively young among the older generation. for him to say she had aged quickly meant she was truly haggard, withered beyond recognition.
Peter froze. He lowered his head, staring silently at the pumpkin juice in his hands. The image of the old woman he hadn't seen in a long time floated into his mind. Her face was blurry, but her kindly voice drifted back to his ears across more than a decade.
"Gryffindor! I knew it! Grandma's little Peter is the bravest!"
"Don't look so glum! You're not the top student, but you're Grandma's best boy."
"Grandma is fine. It's so chaotic outside now, don't come back to see me. Just hide yourself well."
"..."
He still remembered the pain of losing his parents, feeling abandoned by the whole world. During that time, whenever he was alone, he wondered if it was his fault... It was his elderly grandmother who pulled him out of it, raised him, and sent him to Hogwarts.
Back then, she had rejoiced when he was sorted into Gryffindor. Looking at the old witch's smile, he felt as if he had found courage, longing to repay that old woman when he grew up.
---
Midnight, Beneath the Castle
The house-elves in the kitchen busied themselves once more. It was Headmaster Dumbledore's order to prepare temporary cells for two prisoners.
The process was brief and convenient. Before Hogwarts was built as a school, the underground levels had originally been dungeons. They simply chose two abandoned classrooms, cleaned them up a bit, and dug out old bedding from storage. The two prisoners could move in comfortably.
A series of locking and warning spells were placed at the entrance. Sneakoscopes hung on the walls, and portraits and ghosts took turns patrolling. Even transformed into a rat, escape would be impossible.
In the Potions classroom, Snape and Sirius stared coldly at each other. Sirius looked down at the mess on the lecturer's desk, then silently followed Professor Flitwick out, moving to the prepared cell.
Regardless of anything else, his identity now was that of a wanted criminal. Some appearances had to be maintained.
Besides, the cell was furnished to dormitory standards, complete with a fireplace and quilts. The conditions were far superior to Azkaban.
Peter followed dejectedly behind Professor Sprout, shuffling his feet slowly. Only when passing Melvin did he look up, shivering, but said nothing.
"Have a good sleep. The Aurors will come tomorrow morning."
Dumbledore gave them his final instructions, then turned to the young professor beside him. "The night is deep, but I am still quite awake. There are some details I wish to understand. Would you care to join me in my office for a while, Melvin?"
Melvin raised an eyebrow. "Is there hot cocoa?"
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile. "I was just about to have a cup."
---
It was well past midnight when they returned to the Headmaster's office.
The ceiling was painted with a star chart of the Milky Way, including the nine planets (Pluto included), inlaid with gems of various colors. In the dimness, they emitted a faint glow, but once the candles and oil lamps were lit, they immediately dimmed, appearing unremarkable.
Fawkes the Phoenix was curled up inside the Sorting Hat. Hearing someone enter, he raised his sleepy eyes, saw it was Dumbledore and Melvin, and cooed a complaint.
The sound woke the portraits of the Headmasters behind them. Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black was just opening his mouth to complain when Fortescue and other portraits covered his mouth, blinking frantically to signal him.
These two coming to the office so late must have important business to discuss.
Across the desk filled with silver instruments, Dumbledore and Melvin sat opposite each other. In front of each was a steaming cup of cocoa, brought up from the kitchen at just the right temperature.
Dumbledore took a sip of hot cocoa and exhaled a long breath. "According to Remus's account of the adventure, the gap in spacetime lies between the past and the future. I still cannot figure out, Melvin, how did you locate that place?"
"They had marks on them that I left previously. The marks act as anchors, locking onto the position, then transmitting the anchor information to the Time-Turner."
Melvin spoke lightly, as if describing something completely ordinary. But to the ears of the past Headmasters listening in the background, this was as absurd as explaining the steps to put an elephant in a fridge.
What kind of mark can transmit an anchor point across spacetime?
How do you transmit abstract temporal information to a mindless Time-Turner?
What on earth is this guy talking about?
"..."
Dumbledore blinked his bright blue eyes, wearing a thoughtful expression. He seemed to understand the explanation quickly. "Inconceivable magic. To be honest, if it were me, I probably wouldn't have been able to bring them back from that spacetime. Melvin, you are walking a path no predecessor has ever touched."
"No, many wizards have tried. I see traces left by predecessors everywhere on this path." Melvin looked at Dumbledore expectantly. "Is the Headmaster interested in walking together?"
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "If I were a few decades younger, I would certainly accept your invitation with pleasure. But I am already 113 years old."
"Oh..."
Melvin didn't believe a word of it.
Even if he were fifty years younger, Dumbledore would still refuse.
The path Melvin walked was one of constantly expanding his influence, making his name known to wizards worldwide to grow his magic and explore the ultimate mysteries of magic. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had been deliberately restraining his influence for decades, locking himself away in this office.
"Any other questions? You didn't call me here just to discuss magic theory, did you?"
"I do have other doubts, regarding that Death Eater spy, Peter Pettigrew."
Dumbledore sipped his hot cocoa. "As an unforgivable criminal, now that his true face has been exposed, he will be revealed to the entire wizarding world. He will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban; even transforming into an Animagus won't help him escape. Facing such a foreseeable terrible future, Pettigrew actually calmly enjoyed his Christmas dinner."
"Maybe he's given up struggling," Melvin shrugged. "He lacked courage in his youth, and he's tired of hiding all these years. He wants to live out the rest of his life peacefully, thinking being a prisoner in Azkaban isn't so bad."
"In fact, Pettigrew possesses Gryffindor traits. He does not lack courage. He could defect to Tom as a spy, fake his death to escape, hide in the Weasley family for thirteen years..."
Dumbledore stared into Melvin's eyes, pausing slightly. "For such a wizard to be willing to be locked in Azkaban... unless there is something outside that he fears even more."
"Something he fears even more..."
Melvin pretended to ponder. "Like Sirius's anger, Percy and Ron's anger, Mrs. Weasley's anger... not to mention the anger of the vast wizarding populace once the news is disclosed."
"Melvin, from the time we met on Broadway until now, as you transitioned from stage effects master to professor, your acting skills have always been terrible. You lie very casually, not caring if you actually fool anyone." Dumbledore sighed.
Criticized for his supposedly exquisite acting, Melvin attributed it to the old Headmaster's poor eyesight, but he dutifully put down his cocoa. "Is that so, Professor?"
"Remus told me that when they encountered the Boggart in the spacetime rift, Pettigrew's fear was you... If I'm not mistaken, you knew Scabbers' true identity very early on, and you had contact with him. You even knew the truth of this matter long ago, didn't you?"
Dumbledore looked straight into Melvin's eyes, the gentle candlelight reflecting in his blue irises.
"When did you realize, Headmaster?"
"Probably when Sirius first broke into the school..."
Dumbledore spoke slowly. "A few weeks after school started, Harry was seeking help everywhere, investigating the truth of that night... Remus once talked to me, saying you told Harry about the events of that year back at the Leaky Cauldron. I noticed then that you seemed to be guiding Harry to find the answer... not just Harry, but Remus and Severus too. You guided them to analyze the suspicious points and rethink the overlooked details."
"And Peter? How were you sure I had contact with him?"
"Just now in the dungeon classroom, everyone was there, but Pettigrew didn't seem to care about us old professors. Instead, he frequently glanced at you, the stranger. His attention was on you." Dumbledore moistened his throat with cocoa.
Melvin stopped hiding it. "Alright. Through some channels I can't disclose, I knew Scabbers was Peter a long time ago. When the Basilisk was causing trouble in second year, he tried to escape. I was the one who persuaded him to return to Ron's side and continue lying low."
"It was also you who induced him to approach Severus and reveal his tracks..."
Dumbledore looked up, staring into his deep eyes. "Melvin, manipulating human hearts is like Dark Magic. When you cast it on others, you yourself sink into the abyss."
"Dark Magic, applied reasonably, can also yield good results," Melvin said unhurriedly.
Dumbledore sighed. "Setting this up for so long, you probably won't let Peter sit peacefully in Azkaban. What do you intend to make this cunning rat do?"
"Resurrect Tom," Melvin said without concealment.
It was a pity Tom couldn't hear this; otherwise, he would surely be moved.
Dumbledore's expression suddenly changed. He fell silent for a moment, drank several mouthfuls of hot cocoa in succession, and only then did his shock subside. "Even after knowing you for three years, I'm still not used to your unconventional thinking. Melvin, can you tell me the reason for resurrecting Voldemort?"
"Before the summer vacation ended, I went to Hangleton. I found their family heirloom ring in the Gaunt shack. Guess what surprise was inside?"
"Another... Horcrux?"
"Yes, a newly discovered Horcrux. It housed the memory of sixteen-year-old Tom. Young and immature, yet equally vicious," Melvin said softly. "At that time, he had just found out about his origins, killed the Riddle family, framed Morfin Gaunt, modified his memory, and stole the ring symbolizing his bloodline."
"I also thought about going to Hangleton to look for clues. That was where his parents met, the origin of his bloodline. But I was busy looking for a suitable professor over the summer."
Dumbledore couldn't help but tally the Horcruxes. "The diadem, the diary, the cup, and now the newly discovered ring..."
Melvin nodded, feigning agreement. "Yes, who knows how many Horcruxes he actually made?"
Dumbledore glanced at him. "I have been investigating this question. The only person who knows might be Professor Horace Slughorn. But since retiring after the Wizarding War, he's been traveling and living in seclusion, constantly avoiding me. I finally managed to see him, and the memory he gave me was fake."
"Rehire him. Let him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Professor Slughorn is nearly a hundred years old. Let's not make him bear the curse," Dumbledore shook his head. "Melvin, a newly discovered Horcrux is not enough to convince me to resurrect Voldemort when nothing is ready."
"You will never be ready, Headmaster."
Melvin looked straight into the Headmaster's eyes. "You want to investigate the exact number of Horcruxes. You want to destroy all Horcruxes in advance. You also want to wait for Harry to graduate successfully, grow into a capable Auror, marry and have children, experience friendship, love, and family, and leave no regrets before telling him that a fragment of Voldemort's soul resides in his body, so he can bravely accept death."
He was getting a bit wordy. "If possible, you even want to rush to die before him, to explore the world of the dead and pave the way for Harry."
"I never said that. I still want to travel the world after I retire," Dumbledore muttered, shaking his head.
---