Harry watched from his perch halfway up the stairs, his heart pounding with anxiety. "Sirius!" he whispered urgently, unable to stop himself.
He couldn't pinpoint Sirius's exact position under the Invisibility Cloak, but the Dementors' gliding forms made it clear they were hunting him. Harry's stomach twisted with dread. Then realization hit—he clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Below, a Dementor lunged closer, nearly brushing Sirius as it circled relentlessly.
The creatures couldn't see through the cloak, but they sensed life nearby, their icy aura sapping any warmth or joy. Sirius, deprived of his defenses, abandoned his aim on Peter and fired a hasty spell to repel the nearest Dementor. From under the cloak, Harry's hand emerged. "Expelliarmus!" he hissed, wand steady.
To his horror, the jet of light didn't drive them off—it drew them in. Dementors swarmed toward the disturbance, converging on Sirius and Peter.
"Run!" Sirius barked, spinning to grab Peter. His hand closed on empty air. Slapping his forehead in frustration, he realized Peter had slipped away in the chaos, transforming into his Animagus rat form.
No time for regrets. Sirius yanked the Invisibility Cloak tighter and bolted toward Lupin's shouts echoing from the castle. Fleeing any other way would leave him cornered and defenseless against the horde. At least with Lupin, he stood a chance—and the Hogwarts professors were already mobilizing to banish the Dementors.
Upstairs, Harry blinked in confusion. What just happened? He'd been watching the whole time. How had Peter vanished like that? For the first time, he cursed the cloak's perfection—it hid too well, leaving him blind to anything but instinct.
"Blast it—we finally got here, and we saw nothing!" Ron grumbled from the shadows nearby.
"What now? Use the Time-Turner to loop back?" Hermione suggested, frustration edging her voice.
Meanwhile, Argus, who'd been shadowing the scene, noted Peter's dot flickering out on the Marauder's Map. He slipped after it silently. The exact spot of disappearance eluded him, but the map didn't lie. No rat could outpace a wizard on the prowl.
Minutes later, in a dim corridor, Argus spotted the scurrying form. A quick Depulso yanked it back. Peter thrashed wildly until he recognized his captor, then sagged in relief. He shifted to human form, dropping to his knees before Argus.
"My lord—"
"Quiet," Argus snapped, glancing around. "No time for flattery. Dumbledore's sweeping the castle for intruders. He doesn't know your Animagus secret yet, but Sirius might confess everything soon. Get out of Hogwarts—head straight for the Albanian Forest."
Peter's beady eyes widened. "The Albanian Forest? But—"
"Your master hides there. Help him return."
Peter's face paled, shock mingling with terror. Resurrect Voldemort? The Dark Lord who'd once terrified him into betrayal? Peter had only joined out of desperation, haunted by the man's cruelty. But the curse binding him—unbreakable, insistent—left no choice. His life wasn't his own.
Swallowing hard, he nodded and transformed, scampering toward the grounds' edge.
As the rat vanished into the night, Argus's expression eased. "Peter's away. Mission accomplished for this jaunt through time." He pocketed the map. "Now, reel in Harry before he tumbles into the temporal rift."
His mind replayed his earlier chat with Dumbledore. "Timeline holds— the old man hasn't clocked me yet. Otherwise, he wouldn't have trusted me to fetch Harry." It clicked why Dumbledore had pushed him into the rescue: in the headmaster's eyes, Argus's moves screamed Death Eater plot—Voldemort stirring, Harry in the crosshairs. The pressure was mounting, forcing even the wise Dumbledore to roll the dice on an uncertain ally.
"Am I boxing myself in?" Argus muttered with a wry shake of his head. He ignited the spare cloak with a flick of his wand, erasing any traces, then consulted the map for Harry's blinking dot—the Time-Turner user.
With the loop nearly closed, complications would fade. Avoid his past self, spin a tale for Dumbledore if needed, and it was done. He moved toward Harry's position.
"Hours until he loops back. Two ways he could've gotten snagged in the rift: I didn't return on schedule, or he crossed paths with his original self and blew cover."
In the unaltered timeline, Harry should've retreated to the dormitory, shielded by the cloak amid the professors' chaos in the Gryffindor common room. With his skills, Harry couldn't pierce the cloak's veil.
"So, the delay. But he knows the rules—return precisely on time. Unless..." Argus frowned. "The spot he picked for the Turner's tricky?"
Shoving aside the puzzle, Argus pressed on.
Harry clutched the stolen Time-Turner, pulse racing as he debated another spin. They'd jumped back, achieved zilch, and starved for three days to boot. It stung, like always coming up short.
After an agonizing pause, he steeled himself and dashed to the Gryffindor common room. One more loop after this—fix what went wrong.
He forgot the catch: arriving too soon bridged a fragile gap in time. Without the Turner's glow, he stumbled into his own past shadow.
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