Night had fallen over Gryffindor Tower, and Harry lay awake in his four-poster bed, staring at the canopy above. The dormitory was quiet, save for the soft snores of his roommates. He turned toward Ron's bed and whispered, "Ron, have you ever heard of a Time-Turner?"
Ron stirred, sitting up with a grunt. He couldn't sleep either—the mention of that name had jolted him fully awake. "Of course! Time-Turners are restricted in the wizarding world. People have caused real disasters misusing them. And they're dangerous—if you slip up even a little, you could vanish into thin air."
"Oh." Harry's disappointment was mild; he'd half-expected as much before asking. A device like that wouldn't be common knowledge, or he'd have heard whispers before now.
Oblivious to Harry's mood, Ron seized the chance to chat. "You didn't know? Bill and Percy both used them. Hogwarts lends them out to third-years cramming twelve courses with overlapping schedules. That's how you attend everything without missing a beat. Bill did it back in the day, and Percy too—he only told me because he didn't want me pestering him or spotting the inconsistencies in his timetable."
"Won't that cause... problems?" Harry probed carefully.
Ron shrugged, his tone casual. "Nah. Happens every few years. Didn't you ever notice Percy popping up in the wrong place at the wrong time? No big deal."
Harry mulled it over. Percy did have an uncanny knack for being everywhere. No paradoxes or disasters he could recall—just life at Hogwarts grinding on.
"Anyone in our year use one?" Harry pressed.
Ron's face soured. "Yeah. Hermione Granger, that Ravenclaw busybody who thinks she knows everything. And that slimy Slytherin prefect." He snorted, his voice rising with indignation.
The noise roused the others. "Quiet down! Save it for breakfast," Seamus grumbled.
"Yeah, some of us are trying to sleep," Dean added.
Chastened, Harry and Ron fell silent. Ron drifted off muttering, but Harry lay awake, mind racing. Dawn found him in the Great Hall with heavy bags under his eyes, picking at his porridge.
...
In Snape's office, the Potions Master flung the Marauder's Map across the desk to Argus. His scowl said it all: no capture.
Argus unfolded the parchment. Snape had returned too soon—Peter had slipped the net again. Even with the map, the rat was a ghost in the walls. Without Allen's timely interference last time, Argus might have failed too.
"Looks like you hit a wall, Professor," Argus said lightly. "Pettigrew's more slippery than I thought."
Snape's silence was answer enough. He'd tracked the rat these past days, but Peter's Animagus form was too small, too ingrained after years of survival. Striking without certainty risked alerting the Weasleys, and a failed grab meant Peter would burrow deeper. Prudence won out; they'd regrouped at Hogwarts.
"Stick to the plan, then," Argus said. "I'll deploy acolytes to tighten security around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. No escape if we miss."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Filch, when did you pick up our Savior's cockiness? So certain he'll play along?"
Argus didn't flinch. Snape chafed at the setback—and at Argus's calm foresight. "Trust me, Professor. Peter's nested with the Weasleys for over a decade; he won't abandon that cover lightly. Hogwarts is a fortress with you lot and the Aurors watching. But elsewhere? Fair game. He'll slink back to Ron's pocket soon enough."
Snape's lip curled. "Mr. Filch, a word of warning. I don't care what that mangy mutt promised you. My help ends with Pettigrew. Anything else—"
"I get it," Argus cut in smoothly. Capturing the rat aligned with Snape's vendetta; Sirius Black was off-limits. "All I want is Sirius honoring his word. The rest? Not my problem."
Snape's tension eased fractionally. Before, he'd dismissed the third-year outright. Now, after their last clash, he knew better—Argus's magic rivaled seasoned professors'. Crossing wands with him to shield Sirius would cost dearly.
"Anyone else in on this?" Snape asked.
"Hermione's pieced together Professor Lupin's secret."
"Miss Know-It-All?" Snape sneered, decanting a bubbling potion from the cauldron. He lobbed a vial at Argus. "Felix Felicis. For our Mr. Filch. I won't tolerate slip-ups during the arrest."
---
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