The next day, in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Lupin stood at the podium with Sirius Black—disguised and trailing behind him.
In the original timeline, the curse on the DADA post held firm, and after Peter's capture, Lupin's werewolf secret somehow leaked, forcing him out of Hogwarts. But this time, Argus's meddling had turned their scheme into something airtight. Peter still slipped away, but at least Sirius and Lupin stayed under the radar. The whole affair drew Dumbledore's eye, landing Sirius a spot as Lupin's assistant.
"Let me introduce everyone. This is Mr. Orion, my new assistant," Lupin announced.
"He'll handle grading your homework and offer extra guidance. If I'm absent, he'll take over the class."
Sirius couldn't drop his real name yet, so he borrowed his father's to ease into the role. Harry, already in the loop, clapped with genuine enthusiasm. Ever since the Time-Turner fiasco, Gryffindor's chill toward him had turned to ice—even the Weasleys, once his softest allies, barely acknowledged him now. Across Hogwarts, only Lupin and Sirius still treated him like a person. Their staying on was the one bright spot in his frayed world.
Sirius caught Harry's eye from the front and gave a subtle nod. He flashed a quick grin at Argus, seated nearby.
"Right, class, let's dive in," Lupin said, flipping open his textbook. His easy smile hitched for a split second.
These last couple of days, chasing Sirius and Peter had thrown him off his prep. He hadn't realized the werewolf unit was up so soon.
Sirius, hovering close, clocked the flicker in Lupin's face and tensed. He cracked his own book. The werewolf section stared back, and his jaw tightened. He yanked at Lupin's sleeve. "Moony!"
Argus, spotting the shift from his desk, jumped in. "Professor Lupin, Snape covered werewolves when he subbed for you."
Lupin blinked, shaking off the fog, and shot Argus a grateful glance. His secret hit too close to home; after scraping his way back to Hogwarts as a professor, the thought of losing it all paralyzed him.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Mr. Grindelwald. Flip to the next chapter."
"Today, we're discussing grindylows. The Ministry rates them XX—dangerous, but manageable."
"These slimy beasts look fierce, but they're pushovers with the right spell. Mr. Orion, mind fetching the tank from my office?"
...
Harry's verdict finally dropped, and it stung deep. Dumbledore hated enforcing it, but rules were rules. Gryffindor docked fifty points. Slytherin picked up twenty for Argus's heroic save. Net loss for the lions. No big wins left on the board—they were locked for third or fourth, scraping bottom again after last year's flop.
The common room buzzed with resentment. Harry, already on thin ice, now drew outright loathing. Even Ron, his old mate, kept his distance.
Snape simmered in his own misery. Lupin was bad enough; now Sirius lurked in the wings too. His scowl never cracked.
...
Time blurred forward. Holiday week barreled in.
Argus picked up on the shift: deans and Dumbledore traded surface politeness, but the warmth had cooled. Respect lingered, but enthusiasm? Gone.
A crowd clustered by the results board, buzzing.
"Argus topped the year again!"
"No shock—a perfect twelve O's across the board. Hogwarts legends are made of that."
"I'd kill for one O."
"One? I'd settle for passing."
Nearby, Argus tuned out a familiar chime in his head.
[Congratulations, host: First in finals! Achievement: Top of Third Year unlocked.]
[Reward: 100 points.]
[Total: 400.]
He smirked inwardly. Four hundred—plenty for a post-House Cup spin. Top spot? Expected. No fuss.
Draco gawked at his own scores. Not just passing—two surprise O's. He strutted like he'd conquered the castle, tailing Argus with the crew.
They rounded a corner and nearly bumped into a knot of seventh-years, hugging it out over goodbyes. Argus flashed back to last year's Slytherin prefect send-off.
"Percy?"
"He's off too!"
Spotting the redhead in the mix, Argus paused, then waded in. In the books, Percy's brains outshone Hermione's—sharper, even. Without her grit and his ego trips, he'd have eyed Minister by now. But Ministry politics derailed him early: corrupt bosses sacked left and right, stalling his climb.
Still, that ambition was leverage.
"Argus!"
Percy lit up, bounding over. With graduation hitting and the wizarding workforce calling, he knew to nurture ties with Britain's top power broker. If the Ministry soured, acolyte life beat scraping by.
"Percy, heard you're Ministry-bound. Which department?"
Percy's grin faltered, a weary edge creeping in. If Dad still pulled strings as head, he'd have pull. But Harry's mess and Ron's antics had demoted him to grunt work.
The place crawled with backstabbing, and without hooks, he was sidelined. Prefect badge and grades helped, but Weasley name? Laughable for core gigs. Peripheral post? A slow death.
"Sports or Transportation, probably."
"Sports or Transport? With your marks, Law Enforcement or International Cooperation fits better." Argus arched a brow, playing shocked.
Percy sighed. "I'd love that, but... yeah."
Argus mulled it, then leaned in. "Saints have solid sway with Fudge. If you're game, I can put in a word."
---
Enjoying the story? You can read 3-5 chapters ahead right now on Patreon!
New chapters drop there much earlier than Web Novel.
Join P@treon & Read Ahead → https://[email protected]/c/Ren_Saga
Thank you for your support! ❤️