Lupin narrowed his eyes, lost in the memory. "I remember the roof collapsing. I glanced at the debris, but what caught my eye was a full moon—or so it seemed. It wasn't the real thing, though. If it had been, I wouldn't have snapped out of it so fast."
"A fool remains a fool," Snape sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Completely taken in by a conjured moon."
Lupin's botched ambush after transforming had only deepened Snape's disdain.
"Didn't you notice anything else unusual?" Argus asked, his brow furrowed.
Lupin offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Argus. It all happened too quickly—I didn't have a chance to process it."
With no fresh leads, Argus decided to drop the line of inquiry. He was sure the intruders weren't after him anyway. Let Dumbledore and the heads of house handle the shadowy figures prowling Hogwarts—it wasn't his fight.
"Argus!"
As he turned toward the castle, Lupin called out.
"What about Peter...?"
Peter Pettigrew. Snape's face tightened at the name.
They'd caused quite the commotion; if Peter was lurking nearby in his Animagus form, he'd have spotted it. Letting him slip away unchecked would make tracking him impossible—were they to scour every rat in Britain?
Argus knew Peter was under his thumb. The brand at Saints Manor wasn't just for torment or leverage; it let him monitor the rat's status and pinpoint his rough location. He'd sensed Peter's presence earlier, during the clash between Snape and Sirius, but the staged chaos had left no room for outreach.
"Whether he saw us or not, we can't take the risk, Professor," Argus said, feigning the same urgency. "Peter's waiting for Padfoot to lower his guard. We need to move now—back to Hogwarts. Sirius is there, and we'll need his help with the next steps."
Lupin nodded. "Agreed. Let's hurry."
...
Deep within Hogwarts Castle, Harry and Sirius crept through the shifting corridors and staircases, cloaked in the Invisibility Cloak. Sirius glanced at Harry's wide-eyed face, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. It was like stepping back a decade, to those illicit nights sneaking around with James, Lupin, and the others. Back then, they'd been clumsy novices, relying solely on James's cloak for cover—no Animagus tricks yet.
"Sirius," Harry whispered as they navigated a trick step, "what if... what if we don't catch Peter?"
Sirius paused, his voice rough. "We will catch him. And even if Azkaban comes calling again, I won't go quietly. I'd sooner hole up in Knockturn Alley than rot there."y
For Sirius Black, last scion of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Knockturn Alley was a grim necessity—a den of vice where survival meant scraping by, not the cushioned hell of the dementors. But seeing Harry had shifted everything. As James's son and his only kin in the wizarding world, the boy deserved better. Sirius felt the weight of that duty now.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, dodging the dark turn. "Tell me about the old days. You knew Snape, right?"
Sirius's eyes lit up with wicked glee. "Knew him? We clashed from day one! Your dad, Remus, and I landed in Gryffindor—shocked the Sorting Hat senseless. The Blacks had been Slytherins for generations; I was the lone rebel."
"Snivellus—that's Snape to you—was pure Slytherin. Greasy git from the start."
The banter flowed easily, easing Harry's tension. He'd nearly veered off course earlier, but now they were on the eighth floor. Sirius paced three times before the tapestry of trolls clubbing Barnabas the Boggart, and a door materialized from the blank wall.
Harry stared in awe. "What is this?"
"Welcome to my new bolt-hole," Sirius said with a grin. "The Room of Requirement."
He regaled Harry with the tale of how he and James had stumbled upon it during their mischief-making days, then explained its chameleon-like magic—shaping itself to the seeker's needs.
They talked for what felt like hours: Quidditch rivalries, prank wars, the Marauders' escapades. For the first time, Harry basked in the glow of family, clinging to every word. Sirius savored it too, uncertain if fate would grant them another chance.
"By the way," Harry said, curiosity piqued, "you looked stunned when Snape cast the Patronus at the Black Lake. They said it was a guardian spirit just like my mum's—why?"
Sirius faltered, caught off guard. Stealing James's girl and having her Patronus haunt Snape's spells? It didn't add up neatly.
He scrambled for a cover. "Snape knew your mum before your dad did—back in their school days. But he turned Death Eater, sided with... you-know-who. What threw me was a Death Eater pulling off a Patronus at all, let alone one matching hers."
He averted his gaze, guilt flickering. Harry, with his patchy grasp of the charm, didn't press. Instead, his mind latched onto the bombshell: Snape, a Death Eater!
No wonder the git had it out for him since day one—Lily's son, the spitting image of her traitor husband. It all clicked. A smug satisfaction bubbled up; Harry finally had an answer for the relentless bullying.
At that moment, outside the hidden door, Argus, Lupin, and Snape arrived, senses alert.
---
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