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The Mage's Path: Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-01-02 22:53:19 +0000 UTCHi all,
Happy New Year! Here’s the second chapter of the week. Sorry, this is late. I celebrated New Year’s a little too much.
Chapter 20
Ron heaved his trunk onto the overhead rack and dropped into the seat beside Harry. He matched Harry's height but had a skinny frame that made him look underfed.
He turned to Harry, wiping his hand on his robes before holding it out. "I'm Ron Weasley."
"Harry." He shook Ron’s hand.
"Hermione Granger." She peered at the rat. "Is that meant to be your familiar?"
"Scabbers? Nah, he's a hand-me-down from my brother Percy." Ron poked the rat's head. "Useless thing sleeps most of the time."
"Get a proper familiar," Celeste suggested, eyeing the rat with disgust. "Say the word, and I'll dispose of him for you."
The rat squeaked and hid inside Ron’s pocket.
Ron gaped at her. "Bloody hell, who're you?"
"Celeste. Harry’s familiar."
"Wicked!" Ron sighed. "Wish I had someone like you instead of this lazy lump."
Celeste giggled. Hedwig opened one eye and hooted indignantly at Ron, making him jump.
"That's my owl," Harry said.
"Hang on, you've brought two pets?" Ron asked. "That's not allowed, is it?"
"Actually," Hermione interjected, "according to 'Familiar Companions: A Complete Guide', magical familiars are exempt from the standard pet restrictions."
"You're one of those types, aren't you?"
Hermione's spine stiffened. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Ron raised his hands. "Nothing bad! Just saying you're book-smart is all."
Hermione relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained suspicious. Ron switched to safer topics, mostly Quidditch. He launched into a detailed explanation of the Chudley Cannons' latest spectacular defeat, hands waving as he described the failed plays. Harry and Hermione exchanged bemused glances as he rambled on.
But Harry couldn't ignore Ron's constant glances at his forehead. Each furtive look grated on his nerves until he'd had enough.
"Do you have a problem?" .
Ron's ears went pink. "Well... you're Harry Potter, aren't you? The Boy-Who-Lived?"
Harry grimaced. "Don't ever call me that."
The temperature in the compartment seemed to drop. Hermione snatched up her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' and vanished behind it, clearly wanting no part in whatever was brewing.
Ron squirmed in his seat before blurting, "Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just call me Harry.”
“Ah, sure. There’s something I need to confess, though."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"There's loads of empty compartments,” Ron said. “Percy—he's my brother, Prefect this year—he sort of... suggested I try to make friends with you."
"Why would he do that?"
Ron picked at a thread on his sleeve. "He's dead ambitious, isn't he? Reckons me being your friend would help him form a connection. Your name holds a lot of influence in the wizarding world. Couldn't approach you himself though, being a fifth year and all."
"That's horrible!" Hermione shuddered, looking up from her book. "Sounds just like my father."
"Why tell me?" Harry asked. "I'd never have known if you hadn’t said anything."
"I'm rubbish at keeping secrets," Ron said. "Always blurt things out eventually. Better to be honest about it, right?"
Harry nodded. He could appreciate his honesty. "Is he your only sibling?"
Ron shook his head. “I have five brothers and one sister. Bill and Charlie already graduated. Percy's the next oldest, and the twins Fred and George are in their third year. Only Ginny is younger than me." Ron's shoulders slumped. "Got a lot to live up to."
“Don’t know what it feels like to have such a big family.” Harry peered outside the window. “They here as well?”
“Nope,” Ron replied, his lips curling in disgust. “We usually arrive at the last minute. I decided to leave by myself to avoid being rushed.”
“You left on your own?” Hermione asked. “Are you going to get in trouble?”
“Yes,” Ron admitted. “But it’s worth it. I hate arriving late.”
The final whistle blew and the stragglers scrambled to board the train.
A shrill cry pierced the compartment window. "RONALD WEASLEY!"
Ron slid low in his seat. On the platform, a plump woman in worn robes stood surrounded by several equally red-headed children, scanning the train windows.
"Bollocks," Ron muttered. "Mum's going to kill me."
Harry watched the woman's increasing agitation with amusement.
"RON! YOU GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT!"
Hermione slammed her book shut. Pressing close to the window, her eyes locked onto Mrs. Weasley below. When she spoke, a thunderous male voice boomed from her throat: "OI, QUIET DOWN YOU BANSHEE! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!"
Ron shot upright, jaw-dropping. Celeste tumbled from Harry's shoulder in surprise. Even Harry gaped at her transformation.
Mrs Weasley’s mouth snapped shut. Her face flushed as red as her hair as other families on the platform turned to stare. The twin boys beside her doubled over laughing.
"Brilliant!" Ron wheezed, clutching his sides. "Did you see her face?"
The remaining Weasley children bolted for the train, possibly more to escape their mother's wrath than catch their ride. Only the youngest—a small girl—remained, watching the train pull away with longing eyes.
"How did you do that?" Harry asked.
“It’s an ability I discovered I had when Professor McGonagall told me I was a witch,” Hermione replied.
A sharp rap on their compartment window made them jump. One of Ron’s siblings stood outside. He slid the door open, lips pressed into a thin line.
Ron sighed. “This is my brother, Percy.”
"Ronald Bilius Weasley," he hissed, "Mum's having kittens out there. What were you thinking, leaving without telling anyone?"
"Thinking I didn't fancy another mad dash to catch the train," Ron muttered.
"And who made that comment about Mum?"
“Not a clue.”
Percy drew himself up, chest puffed out. "Mr. Potter. Percy Weasley, fifth-year prefect. I trust my brother hasn't been too... difficult?"
Harry's lips twitched. "Ron's been perfectly pleasant."
"Excellent." Percy polished his Prefect badge with his sleeve. "Do let me know if you require any assistance. Prefects are here to help promising students navigate Hogwarts' challenges. Now, if you'll excuse me—Prefect meeting to attend."
Percy disappeared, and Ron shut the door closed. “Thank god he didn’t stick around.”
"Bit full of himself, isn't he?" Hermione watched Percy disappear down the corridor. “Are the twins similar to Percy?”
“Merlin, no. They’re alright, as long as you don’t get on their bad side.”
Harry pointed his finger and cast the Locking Charm on the door, The lock clicked shut. That would prevent anyone else from entering uninvited.
Hermione gasped. “How did you do that?”
“Blimey,” Ron muttered. “You already know how ro cast wandless magic.”
“It’s not wandless magic,” Hermione said. “He performed the wand movements and spoke the incantation. Harry, what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later,” Harry said, conscious of the rat poking its head out of Ron’s pocket.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The train slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade station and they exited the train. A booming voice carried over the crowd: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
A giant of a man towered above the sea of students, his wild beard illuminated by a swinging lantern. "C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now!"
Hagrid - Half Giant - Level 83
Ron gaped at Hagrid. “Blimey, he’s huge.”
“Must be a half-giant,” Harry said.
“How does that even work?” Hermione asked delicately.
Harry shrugged. “Anything’s possible with a wand, I suppose.”
Ron sniggered.
They followed him down a steep, narrow path. The darkness pressed in on either side.
Harry activated Magelight and waved his hand, pretending to cast a spell. It illuminated the surroundings, providing relief to the students who were stumbling about. Everyone stared at his display of magic, but didn’t say anything.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."
The path opened onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a mountain on the other side, windows sparkling against the starry sky, stood a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid pointed to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.
Harry, Ron and Hermione claimed one boat. A round-faced boy named Neville joined them, clutching a toad to his chest.
"Better be food after all this," Celeste grumbled from Harry's shoulder.
“You already ate three chocolate frogs,” Harry reminded her.
“I’m talking about proper food,” Celeste stressed. “Sweets don’t count.”
“Not with your bottomless pit of a stomach.”
The boats glided forward in unison, cutting through mirror-smooth water. As they crossed an invisible boundary, Harry's Mana Sense exploded with input. Magic saturated every stone of the castle, the sheer magnitude of it staggering him.
Everyone stared up at the castle overhead as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. They clambered out onto rocks and pebbles, then followed Hagrid up a passageway in the cliff face, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
Professor McGonagall waited for them at the top of the stone steps. Her emerald-green robes caught the torchlight as she surveyed the first years.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here." She turned to Harry. "Mr Potter, Miss Granger, please see me after the feast. We need to discuss certain matters."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. The other students glanced at them curiously.
They crossed the flagged stone floor, the buzz of hundreds of voices leaking through a doorway on their right. McGonagall ushered them into a small chamber off the main hall.
"Wait here," she said, closing the door behind her.
A pale boy with slicked-back hair shouldered through the crowd, flanked by two hulking figures who cracked their knuckles menacingly.
"Draco Malfoy," he drawled. "That was impressive magic earlier, Potter. We should talk."
Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this dunderhead?”
Ron snorted a laugh. "That’s the right word for him. Harry doesn't need your sort hanging around, Malfoy."
Draco's lip curled. "Another Weasley? When will your mother learn to stop breeding? Your father can barely feed you all on his pathetic Ministry salary."
"Shut it, Malfoy."
"What's his job again?" Draco tapped his chin. "Ah yes, the Misuse of Mudblood Artefacts Office."
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Ron's fists clenched as he stepped forward.
"Want to see a spell?" Harry asked.
Draco smiled. "Go ahead."
Harry raised his finger and cast the Colour-Changing Charm on Draco’s hair, turning it the same colour as Ron’s.
“You look like you could be brothers,” Harry said. “Now be nice to each other.”
“Harry!” Ron blanched. “How could you?”
The chamber erupted in laughter. Draco's face flushed pink as Hermione buried her face in her hands. Before he could retort, silvery figures glided through the wall—ghosts deep in conversation. It distracted Draco enough that he didn’t retaliate against Harry.
McGonagall returned moments later. She raised an eyebrow when she saw Draco. “I didn’t know there would be two Weasley’s joining us this year.”
That provided a fresh round of laughter. McGonagall waved her wand, returning his hair to normal.
She led them into the Great Hall. Four long tables stretched beneath thousands of floating candles, their light dancing off golden plates and goblets. Above, the ceiling opened to a velvet-black sky scattered with stars. Hundreds of faces turned to watch them file between the tables.
Harry's HUD exploded with information as floating text materialised above every student's head. The barrage of names and levels threatened to give him a migraine. He tapped his glasses, deactivating the display.
McGonagall placed a battered hat on a wooden stool. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and to Harry's astonishment, the hat burst into song. Its croaky voice filled the hall with verses about the four houses and their virtues. Harry scanned the older students' faces—not one showed surprise at a singing piece of headwear.
"This is mental," Harry muttered.
"Could be worse," Ron whispered back. "Fred told me we'd have to wrestle a troll."
Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll and began calling names. When "Granger, Hermione" echoed through the hall, she practically sprinted to the stool, cramming the hat onto her bushy hair.
The hat only took a minute before bellowing: "GRYFFINDOR!"
When "Potter, Harry" rang out, the hall fell silent. Whispers hissed like snakes through the quiet.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter? He looks like a third-year."
Harry walked forward and picked up the hat, sitting on the stool. The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. The next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat.
"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Do you mind lowering your Occlumency shields so I can read your mind?”
“I don’t have any,” Harry said. “And why do you need to read my mind?”
"I need to examine it to sort you properly."
"Is there any other choice?” Harry asked. "Put me in Gryffindor. The Potter crest is a Griever. Do you know what that is?"
The hat ignored him. “You're wearing something that blocks mental intrusion. No first-year has ever resisted me before."
Harry's hand twitched as he remembered the ring. He'd forgotten all about it since obtaining it in the dungeon. It would protect him from anyone reading his mind. No way was he going to take it off.
“I’m not wearing anything.” Harry lied. “Does such an artefact even exist? Maybe you're losing your touch?’
“I’m too old for this nonsense,” the hat grumbled. “Maybe I should place you in Slytherin out of sheer spite.”
“Do that, and I will set you on fire.”
"Threatening magical artefacts now? You're definitely a—GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindors erupted in cheers. Harry walked to the table, where Percy stood up to shake his hand vigorously. He took a seat next to Hermione. Ron joined them shortly after, looking relieved.
The Weasley twins bounded over, identical grins plastered across their faces. Harry eyed them wearily. Ron had warned him about these two.
"Well done, Harry!" they said in unison, clapping him on the shoulders.
"We knew you had it in you—" said one.
"—after that brilliant banshee impression earlier," finished the other.
"I'm Fred—"
"—and I'm George—"
"—or maybe it's the other way around."
“It wasn’t me,” Harry muttered, but they ignored him.
The feast materialised on golden plates, drawing gasps from the first years. Mountains of roast beef, chicken, potatoes, and vegetables stretched as far as Harry could see. Celeste eyed the spread with naked hunger.
"Finally!" She dove into a platter of roast potatoes, earning startled looks from nearby students.
Dumbledore stood up to deliver several announcements and messages from staff. After a rousing rendition of the school song—sung to different tunes by most of the student body—they were dismissed to their dormitories. Harry and Hermione hung back, remembering McGonagall's request to speak with them after the feast.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
McGonagall led Harry and Hermione through torch-lit corridors to the Hospital Wing. The white stone walls gleamed in the flickering light, and the sharp scent of healing potions filled the air. Inside, neat rows of pristine beds stretched the length of the room, their white sheets crisp and immaculate.
A witch in starched robes bustled toward them, her grey hair tucked beneath a matron's cap. Her face held the weathered look of someone who'd seen every possible magical mishap, yet kindness lurked in the corners of her eyes.
"This is Madam Pomfrey, the school matron," McGonagall said. "The Headmaster will join us shortly to discuss your situation."
"Two patients already?" Pomfrey clicked her tongue. "Mr. Potter, your father was practically a permanent resident here. Between Quidditch's injuries and backfired pranks, I saw him more than some of my staff. I hope you don't follow in your father's footsteps."
"Harry plans and the Potter luck despises," he quipped.
Pomfrey chuckled. "James used to say something similar."
Celeste fluttered from his shoulder, hovering near the bedside table. "You know what would make this system more interesting? A luck attribute. Imagine the chaos."
Pomfrey blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Don't mind her," Harry said quickly. He turned to McGonagall, seizing the chance to redirect the conversation. "Professor, while we wait—I've been reading ahead in Transfiguration. Is there a spell that can reveal an Animagus?"
Hermione shot him a curious look.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "The Revelio Animus charm. It reveals whether someone is in their Animagus form. A handy spell to have if you fear someone is spying on you."
“Interesting.”
Her eyes narrowed. "That's an unusual question for a first-year. What prompted your interest?"
Before he could answer, the infirmary doors swung open as Dumbledore swept in. "Good evening. I trust we're ready to begin?"
Dumbledore conjured several plush armchairs with a wave of his wand. "Please, sit. There's no cause for alarm—you're both here because of an extraordinary occurrence."
Harry and Hermione perched on the edges of their seats.
"Both of you have gone through your first magical maturity early," Dumbledore explained, steepling his fingers. "Miss Granger, yours manifested just shy of twelve—a year ahead of schedule. But Mr Potter..." He shook his head, wonder creeping into his voice. "Two years early. In all my years at Hogwarts, I've never encountered such a case."
Harry fought to keep his expression neutral. The headmaster's theory seemed plausible—if he didn’t already know the true reason. Wouldn't a true magical maturity have affected his attributes? Especially his Spirit attribute.
"Sir," Hermione straightened in her chair, "I thought I was here because of my ability?"
"That is part of it." Dumbledore leaned forward. "Though it’s not our primary concern. Would you mind if we discussed your gift with Harry present?"
“I don’t mind.”
"Miss Granger is a Cadencemage," Dumbledore said. "A person who can weave magic into their voice. They are so rare that only one or two are usually born in every generation."
Harry’s eyes widened. What an amazing ability. "So the voice mimicking, that's part of being a Cadencemage?"
"For now." Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I haven't figured out what else I can do yet."
"Oh, the possibilities!" Celeste chortled. "Think of all the pranks we could do!"
McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Miss Celeste, I've dealt with enough troublemakers over the years. Don't think your diminutive size will protect you from consequences."
"Me? Cause trouble?" Celeste pressed a tiny hand to her chest in mock offence. "I would never."
"You must keep this secret,” Dumbledore interjected. “Britain hasn't seen a Cadencemage in centuries. Certain families would go to extreme lengths to secure such power for their bloodlines. They would marry her off to one of their sons."
Hermione shuddered.
"Marriage contracts?" Harry's knuckles whitened on his armrests. "This isn't the Dark Ages."
"In many ways, it is." Dumbledore sighed. "While they cannot force her, they can apply tremendous pressure on her parents. They would persuade them to sign a binding marriage contract. As a Muggleborn, Miss Granger is particularly vulnerable."
Hermione's face drained of colour as she met Harry's gaze. They both knew her father wouldn't hesitate to sell her off to the highest bidder.
"Let's not dwell on worst-case scenarios," Dumbledore said. "As headmaster, I will not allow one of my students to be taken advantage of so easily.”
An uneasy silence filled the room.
Dumbledore continued. “Mr Potter's situation is an entirely different matter and not one we can keep secret."
He explained Harry's unique condition —the wand fused with bone, the unprecedented early maturity. With each detail, Hermione's eyes grew wider.
"A wand inside your arm?" She shook her head. "That's incredible. Dangerous, but incredible."
Dumbledore returned to the topic of their magical maturities. “There are certain risks associated with an early magical maturity that we must account for.”
"What kind of risks?" Harry asked.
"Accelerated physical development—which you've both experienced. Heightened emotional responses that can trigger accidental magic. Your cores need time to stabilise and adjust to the increased power flowing through them."
Pomfrey stepped forward, her wand already moving in diagnostic patterns. "We'll need to monitor you both closely. I will start by performing a health checkup on you. Mr Potter, if you'll come with me first?"
Pomfrey guided Harry to a bed and closed the curtains.
"Right then, Mr Potter. I will perform a basic health scan first. It won’t hurt at all."
She waved her wand in sweeping arcs. Blue light washed over him from head to toe. More spells followed—one made his skin tingle, and another caused his joints to glow briefly. A third created shimmering numbers above his head that only she seemed to understand.
"Hmm." Her quill scratched across a floating parchment. "Any headaches? Difficulty sleeping? Changes in appetite?"
"I have an increased appetite."
Pomfrey nodded. “That’s to be expected.”
Her wand passed over his forehead and paused. The diagnostic spell flared bright gold around his scar. Her eyes narrowed.
"That's odd." She cast three more spells in quick succession. Each one produced the same reaction. "I've never seen readings quite like these."
"Is something wrong with it?"
Pomfrey pressed her lips together. "I'm not certain. There's magic there, but it's not responding to any standard diagnostic charms. I'll need to consult with a specialist at St Mungo's."
She cast one final diagnostic charm. "Well, Mr Potter, apart from your mysterious scar, you're in remarkably good health.”
"How does your arm feel, Harry?" Dumbledore asked when he returned. "Any discomfort? Strange sensations?"
"None at all. It works perfectly."
"Show me what spells you've managed to learn."
Harry feigned innocence. "Just the Wand-Lighting Charm so far—"
"Harry." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "We both know your curiosity wouldn't let you stop there."
Harry sighed and raised his hand. The Levitation Charm sent a pillow soaring across the room. A colour-changing charm changed some bedsheets from white to emerald green. Each spell flowed smoothly into the next, his control precise.
Hermione emerged from her examination just as Harry demonstrated the Unlocking Charm on a cabinet.
Pomfrey's wand traced intricate patterns over Harry's arm. Blue light pulsed beneath his skin, following the path of the embedded wand. "Remarkable. Casting spells doesn’t seem to have any effect on your arm. Your magic flows through it naturally."
Dumbledore stroked his beard. “It looks like you will have no issue participating in class. I want you to have weekly check-ups with Madam Pomfrey, so we can keep an eye on things."
Harry nodded.
McGonagall rose from her chair. "It’s getting late. If that's all settled, I'll escort Mr Potter and Miss Granger to Gryffindor Tower—"
"Professor," Harry interrupted, seizing his chance. "Do you know a man named Peter Pettigrew?"
Dumbledore's casual demeanour vanished, replaced by razor-sharp focus. "Why do you ask about him?"
"Please answer the question."
"Peter was part of your father's closest circle at Hogwarts—along with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. After Black betrayed your parents to Voldemort, Peter confronted him. Black killed him, along with twelve Muggles. Only a finger remained."
Harry drew a slow breath. "Ron's rat is Peter Pettigrew. He's an Animagus."
McGonagall's hand flew to her throat. Dumbledore stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
"That's a serious accusation," Dumbledore said. "How could you possibly know this?"
"I came across information about Peter being a rat Animagus. That alone isn’t proof of anything. But I also have a sensitivity to magic—maybe it's part of my early maturity." The lie came smoothly. "That rat radiates human magic. The pieces fit."
"Peter Pettigrew is dead," McGonagall whispered. Her face had gone chalk-white.
"Maybe I'm wrong about the identity," Harry conceded. "But that rat is definitely a man in disguise. Test it if you don't believe me."
Dumbledore rose to his feet. “Let's head to the Gryffindor Tower and have a chat with Mr Weasley’s rat.”
They climbed the stairs in tense silence. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t take time to appreciate Hogwarts' unique architecture.
The Fat Lady swung open at Dumbledore's approach without waiting for a password.
"Wait here," Dumbledore instructed Harry and Hermione. He and McGonagall vanished up the boys' staircase, leaving them alone in the common room.
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve. "If you're right about that rat... Harry, do you realise what this means?"
"It means that the events surrounding my parent’s deaths are called into question,” Harry said. “Why was Sirius Black chasing Peter Pettigrew? If Sirius was captured and locked up, why didn’t he come forward? Why did he hide for a decade?”
Hemione twisted the hem of her robes. “Hiding out as someone’s pet rat without their knowledge is all sorts of wrong. He can’t be a good person.”
Harry grunted in agreement, watching the stairs.
Celeste shook her fist. “Nasty thing. I should have gotten rid of him back on the train.”
"But why did Peter hide as the Weasleys' pet?” Hermione mused.
"Keeping tabs on things, maybe." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Or hiding from something."
Footsteps came down the stairs. Dumbledore emerged with McGonagall, Percy, and Ron trailing behind. Percy's face was ashen and Ron stumbled on the last step, looking ready to faint. In Dumbledore's hands, a cage held Scabbers, lying still.
"Is it Peter?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore lifted the motionless rat from its cage. "We shall see. We have confirmed the rat is indeed a wizard in disguise."
He placed the rat on the floor and waved his wand.
The rat's body contorted and stretched with sickening cracks. Fur receded as limbs elongated. Clothes materialised from nowhere as the transformation was completed. Within seconds, a short, balding man lay unconscious before them. His skin had a greyish tinge, and what remained of his hair was matted. Even unconscious, his face twitched in nervous spasms, watery eyes darting beneath closed lids.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ron muttered, rubbing his stomach.
McGonagall conjured a bucket and handed it to him. He clutched at it like a lifeline but didn’t use it.
Ropes shot from Dumbledore's wand, binding the unconscious man. Another spell followed, its light sinking into Pettigrew's skin. "That will prevent him from transforming until the Aurors arrive."
"What about Sirius Black?" Harry demanded. “He chased after Peter Pettigrew. Something fishy is going on. Maybe Sirius is…”
Trouble clouded Dumbledore's face. "I don't know, Harry. But I will investigate thoroughly. If Sirius Black is innocent..." He trailed off, the implications hanging heavy in the air.
"We will take it from here. Bed. All of you." McGonagall's voice brooked no argument. "Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley—expect your parents tomorrow morning. We need to have you and your siblings checked out by Madam Pomfrey."
The unspoken implications of harbouring an adult wizard in their home for years seemed to finally hit Percy. He nodded shakily and rushed back up the stairs
"Night, Hermione," Harry muttered.
He followed Ron up the stairs, leaving the professors to deal with their unconscious prisoner. Sleep wouldn't come easily tonight—not with the knowledge that one of his parents' supposed friends was a criminal and might have played a part in his parent’s deaths.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The Great Hall buzzed with whispers the next morning. Students craned their necks toward the entrance where Mr and Mrs Weasley swept in, Ginny trailing behind them. Both parents looked disturbed.
Two stern-faced Aurors intercepted the family. The taller one spoke in low tones, gesturing toward a side chamber. Ron, Percy and the twins rose from the Gryffindor table to join their parents. As they passed, Ginny caught Harry's eye, her expression a mix of fear and confusion.
"Poor Ron," Hermione murmured. "Imagine finding out you've been sleeping in the same room as... as that man for years."
His appetite gone, he pushed away his half-eaten breakfast. "We should head to our first class.”
The temperature dropped as they descended the stairs to the dungeons. They joined the queue of nervous first-years outside the classroom. Harry's initial excitement about brewing proper potions faded as Professor Snape swept in, his black robes billowing behind him.
Snape's cold eyes locked onto Harry. "Ah yes," he said softly, "our new... celebrity."
The Slytherins sniggered. Snape fired several questions at Harry. Each correct answer only deepened Snape's scowl, as if Harry's knowledge personally offended him.
"Get that creature out of my classroom," he snapped suddenly, spotting Celeste hovering near Harry's cauldron.
"I'm his familiar—" Celeste started, wings bristling.
"Out." Snape's lip curled. "Or you'll find yourself pickled in one of these jars."
Celeste zipped from the room, her stream of creative threats cut off by the slamming door.
Despite the hostile atmosphere, Harry's Boil-Cure Potion turned out perfect—exact shade, perfect consistency. Yet Snape graded it as Poor.
"Clearly," he sneered, "fame isn't everything, Mr Potter."
"That was completely unfair!" Hermione fumed as they climbed the stairs after class. "Your potion was perfect!"
"Snape clearly has issues with—" Harry broke off as a woman materialised before them, draped in shawls and beads that clinked with each movement.
Her enormous glasses magnified her eyes to unsettling proportions, fixed on Harry with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
"Harry Potter," Professor Trelawney breathed, stepping too close. The sharp scent of incense clung to her shawls. "I've been hoping to meet you."
Harry backed away, but she followed, maintaining the uncomfortable proximity. "Er, hello Professor."
"The Inner Eye has shown me great things about you." Her fingers twitched toward his scar. "Come to my tower. Let me read your future. I sense such fascinating energies swirling around you..."
"We need to get to Transfiguration," Harry said, edging sideways. Hermione's grip tightened on his arm.
"Oh, but surely Professor McGonagall would understand." Trelawney's magnified eyes didn't blink. "Just a quick reading. I have so many questions about your... unique circumstances."
Something in her eager tone set warning bells ringing in Harry's mind. "Sorry, Professor. Maybe another time."
"Yes, another time," she murmured, still staring at his scar. "The Inner Eye is patient. We will speak again, Harry Potter."
They hurried away, not slowing until they'd put several corridors between themselves and the Divination professor.
"Well, that was creepy," Hermione muttered, straightening her robes.
"Let's stick to the main staircases," Harry said. "And avoid the North Tower altogether."
The woman was seriously barmy and unsettling. Who would hire such a professor to teach students?
Oh right. Dumbledore.
The same man who'd dumped him with magic-hating relatives. The same man who hired a Potions professor who seemed to hate him. It didn’t inspire any confidence in the headmaster.
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry hears news of Sirius and settles into school life.
Thanks for reading.
