章 289: 0288 Return?
The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere charged with a palpable sense of dread and regret. Sirius's eyes, usually a piercing grey, were now clouded with a storm of emotions, twitching uncontrollably as the weight of his past decisions bore down on him. The choice to make Peter Pettigrew the secret-keeper for the Potters had been a catastrophic error, one that haunted him every night. And now, Severus Snape, with his sadistic wit and venomous words, was twisting the knife deeper into Sirius's already festering wound.
Amidst the chaos, a voice of calm emerged. "Good luck, Harry Potter," Firenze said to harry. With a nod from the centaur, his brethren silently acknowledged the gravity of the moment and dispersed, their hooves beating a soft rhythm on the forest floor as they formed a protective circle around the idling motorcycle.
Sirius, his hands trembling slightly, reached out to caress the dashboard of the motorcycle, a relic from a time that seemed like a distant memory. His fingers grazed the buttons, each touch a hesitant question, each flicker of the dashboard lights a cryptic response. "I never thought I'd have a chance to ride this again," he murmured, his voice a complex tapestry of sorrow, nostalgia, and a faint glimmer of hope.
"Oh, are you planning to leave like this?"
The scene, however, was not lost on Fenrir Greyback, whose cruel smile was a stark contrast to the somber mood. His eyes, gleaming with malice, were fixed on the group, particularly on the young wizards from Hogwarts who were preparing to seek reinforcements. He wouldn't let Sirius and the few young brats go to Hogwarts for reinforcements. Especially not with the infamous Harry Potter among them, who was the most important bargaining chip in negotiations with Dumbledore.
With a swift and brutal motion, Greyback seized Remus Lupin by the neck, his grip ironclad, his wrist flicking with contempt as if he were displaying a piece of worthless trash. "You are friends with this traitor, right?" he sneered at Sirius, his voice dripping with disdain. "If you dare to escape, I'll snap his throat!"
The threat ignited a fire in Sirius's eyes, a blaze of anger that threatened to consume him. "Let go of Remus, you despicable beast!" he roared, his body tensed, ready to leap off the motorcycle and confront the werewolf. But before he could act, a sudden clang resonated through the air, a harbinger of unexpected intervention.
A cold light flashed, leaving a silver trail etched into the retinas of all who witnessed it. In an instant, Greyback recoiled, clutching his arm and cursing vehemently as he staggered backward. Lupin, now in his werewolf form, collapsed to the ground.
"Take them away quickly!" Hagrid shouted, his voice booming he discarded his crossbow and charged headlong into the pack. The werewolves, their eyes alight with bloodlust, surged forward, but Greyback's obsession with using Lupin as leverage was undeterred. He lunged for the semi-conscious werewolf, determined to reclaim his hostage. Yet, the centaurs were not idle spectators; their spears, swift and unerring, flew like arrows, crossing the distance in a heartbeat and pinning werewolves near Greyback to the earth, forcing him into a grudging retreat.
Lupin, dazed and disoriented, struggled to his feet. His gaze flitted between the spear that lay discarded by his claw and the retreating form of Greyback. A series of fearful whimpers escaped his lips before he vanished into the impenetrable darkness, his presence erased from sight as if swallowed by the night itself.
Boom!
The ensuing battle between werewolves and centaurs was of primal fury. The air was filled with the sounds of roars, the rending of flesh, and the death cries of the fallen. Snape, his complexion ashen, once again conjured his signature spell, severing a leaping werewolf in mid-air. The creature's blood rained down in a bloody shower.
Snape stared at Sirius intently, and Sirius knew exactly what Snape wanted to express. He angrily glared in the direction Lupin had disappeared, and shouted, "Hold on, Remus! I'll bring help soon!"
The roar of the motorcycle drowned out the noise of the battlefield.
"Stop them!"
Greyback's furious command to stop them was drowned out by the mechanical beast's growl.
Amidst the increasingly loud rumbling, the exhaust pipe suddenly spewed blue and white flames. Hermione, sitting behind Sirius, let out a short, piercing scream.
With a sudden surge, the motorcycle reared up, its front wheel lifting off the ground. Harry, his senses overwhelmed, barely registered their ascent as they soared thirty feet into the air, the motorcycle accelerating towards Hogwarts with a fierce determination.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh...
Behind them, the werewolves gave chase, their forms a blur as they navigated the vine-entangled forest. Yet, their numbers dwindled with each passing moment, and soon, only a solitary werewolf persisted in pursuit. Seizing an opportunity, the creature leaped from a horizontally growing branch, its claws latching onto the sidecar's bracket with a desperate tenacity.
"Canrady Leviosa!" The words burst from Harry's lips in a terrified scream. Harry's wand was a blur of motion, and the shattered side mirror of the motorcycle became an impromptu weapon, sweeping across the werewolf's outstretched arm.
ROAR!!!!
A roar of agony filled the air as the werewolf was forcibly dislodged, its arm severed by the improvised spell. The creature plummeted to the ground, its howl fading into the distance, a stark reminder of the brutal reality they faced.
Ron, his arms trembling with the effort to support Draco Malfoy, was suddenly drenched in a warm, scarlet spray. The blood, belonging to a werewolf whose arm had been severed moments before, splattered across his face and robes, its coppery scent filling the air. With a gasp, Ron's eyes rolled back, and he slumped over, unconscious, mirroring Malfoy's prone form in the sidecar.
"Well done, Harry!" Sirius Black's voice cut through the chaos, his tone laced with pride as he glanced over at his godson. Harry, however, could only manage a tight-lipped nod in response. His gaze was fixed on the werewolf's dismembered limb that lay grotesquely in Ron's grasp, and his hand, the one clutching his wand, shook with an uncontrollable tremor. He heard Hermione sobbing softly between him and Sirius, but he had no words to comfort her. He could only pat her thin shoulder in silence.
The explosions and flashes on the battlefield behind them were still vivid in the night. Harry's cheek, smeared with his own blood, twitched involuntarily as he turned to stare at the carnage they had narrowly escaped.
When last summer, Professor Watson had taken him to that evil underground cave, Harry realized that the wizarding world was not a fairy tale world. But tonight, he truly witnessed the cruelty of the battlefield- the werewolves's tragic demise, the uncertainty of Professor Lupin's fate-
In a daze, Harry remembered what Professor Watson had taught them.
Power is a very real thing and cannot be changed by personal will alone.
Harry's thoughts drifted to his first year at Hogwarts, to the secret underground chamber where he had faced Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort. Back then, armed with nothing but sheer determination, Harry had managed to thwart Voldemort's scheme to obtain the Philosopher's Stone. Quirrell, unable to lay a finger on him, had been defeated by a power that Harry had not understood at the time.
Professor Dumbledore had later explained that it was his mother's love that had left a mark upon him and being deeply loved by someone, even if that person had died, would leave us with an eternal protective charm.
Harry thought that mark was his scar, but it wasn't. Professor Dumbledore said it was invisible, hidden beneath the skin.
"Maybe it's only useful against Voldemort—" Harry muttered to himself, his voice lost to the howling winds that whipped around them, unheard by his companions.
Harry was lost in thought and didn't notice that the trajectory of the motorcycle's flight was no longer as stable as before. It was going up and down like a stone skipping across water.
"B- Mr. Black—" Hermione's voice was tinged with panic as her face was lashed by a flurry of leaves. Through the fragmented reflection of the shattered rearview mirror, she caught sight of Sirius's face, paler than snow against the backdrop of the night sky. With a jolt of alarm, she realized that Sirius's robe was soaked in blood..
"Oh, what's wrong?" Sirius looked a bit dazed, as if waking up from a nap. His tone was somewhat surprised.
"Um, you, I mean, you look a bit exhausted—" Hermione stammered, her worry for Sirius evident.
After twelve years in Azkaban, the first wizard Sirius encountered upon his release was Bryan Watson. He had forgotten what it felt like to be respected. Hermione's respectful address made him feel somewhat awkward. After a brief silence, Sirius smiled, about to say something, but a rumbling noise from a few miles away interrupted him.
"What is that!" The recent brutal war had left Harry's nerves on edge, and he shouted loudly.
The rumbling sound sounded familiar to Harry, but for a moment, he couldn't remember where he had heard it before.
"No matter what it is!" Sirius said with a hint of weakness in his voice, "We'd better avoid it now."
He spun the handle, and the motorcycle roared off, the oncoming wind blocking Harry's mouth. However, the rhythmic rumbling didn't fade but approached at an unsettling speed.
Now, Hogwarts Castle loomed larger in their sight, standing silent on the high ground. Harry and Hermione unconsciously relaxed, a sense of safety welling up inside them.
But before they could fully enjoy the joy of surviving the ordeal, Sirius's head suddenly drooped, and the motorcycle lost control plunging uncontrollably toward the ground. At the same time, the blood moon in the sky vanished, and a visible chill filled the air.
Crack! Boom! Snap!
Before Harry and Hermione could react, the motorcycle, thirty feet above the ground, plummeted down and crashed heavily onto the ground, accompanied by the grating sound of metal bending and the snapping of trees. Ron and Malfoy were thrown out and disappeared into a ravine on a small hillock.
Hermione had been tightly holding onto Sirius's robes, so when they landed, with Sirius acting as a cushion, her injuries were not severe.
However, the force of the impact caused Hermione to roll on the ground several times. Finally, her head hit a bare stone protruding from the earth, and with a muffled groan, she fell silent.
Harry was the least injured among them, thanks to his skills as an excellent Seeker. A dive from such similar angles were nothing to him, and he was adept at protecting himself in such accidents.
As the front of the motorcycle collided with the ground, Harry used the force to propel himself forward. In mid-air, he adjusted his posture, protecting his head with his arms and curling up into a ball. After rolling five or six times on the leaf-covered ground, he finally regained control of his body.
Harry's face was buried in the damp, cold, and foul-smelling leaves. His hair was covered in dirt and grass, and his robes were torn and scattered by branches on the ground. Waves of exhaustion surged through his mind, using darkness as a medium, repeatedly impacting his consciousness. If possible, Harry wished he could just pass out, but he couldn't rest because of Hermione, Ron, and Sirius's safety.
"Mmm!"
Harry gritted his teeth and knelt on the ground, supporting his body with his arms. The soreness and pain in his body blurred his consciousness for a few seconds. It wasn't until warm, moist blood seeped out of his nostrils and his dry lips felt a tangy sweetness that Harry regained his clarity.
Looking around, Ron and Malfoy had disappeared, rolling who knows where. Harry found Malfoy's dropped Nimbus 2001 on the hillside.
The front of the motorcycle was embedded in the ground, while the heavy body was pressing on Sirius's chest. In the dimming moonlight, Harry noticed that Sirius's chest had caved in, indicating that his ribs were definitely broken, but he didn't know how many.
"Hermione--"
Harry muttered weakly, attempting to stand up several times. However, his body and mind couldn't support him to complete the action, so he had no choice but to crawl towards Hermione on all fours.
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章 290: 0289 The Patron Saint
"Hermione--"
Harry muttered weakly, attempting to stand up several times. However, his body and mind couldn't support him to complete the action, so he had no choice but to crawl towards Hermione on all fours.
Hermione's forehead had turned purple, and blood was flowing from the wound where it had come into contact with the stone. Harry tried to wipe the blood off her face with his sleeve, but his sleeve was already soaked, only smearing Hermione's face with fresh blood.
In that moment, Harry suddenly felt an urge to give up. He stared at Hermione lying in his arms, her face as pale as paper, mechanically repeating the wiping motion.
To be honest, Harry had faced many setbacks before, whether it was the years living with the Dursleys or the various pressures and expectations he faced after entering Hogwarts. These were things that ordinary wizards couldn't imagine. And now, the experiences of the past hour or two, along with the current situation, made Harry feel deeply powerless.
Suddenly, Harry whose vision was blurred felt that everything around him had quieted down. It was as if he had suddenly lost his hearing, and the world became silent.
Every breath he exhaled left clear white traces in the air. The indescribable cold seemed to freeze both his blood and soul, while the despair brewing in his heart erupted like a volcano.
Harry saw them, Dementors, at least dozens of them. They descended from the tall treetops like a dark cloud, hovering above Sirius's head.
"Don't--"
Harry trembled as he pointed his wand at the excited Dementors, his voice barely audible.
"Don't hurt him, he's innocent." Harry pleaded in a voice filled with desperation.
Not a single Dementor cared about Harry's plea. They circled around Sirius's head under the motorcycle for a while. After two minutes, they finally confirmed that the one being crushed under the motorcycle was none other than Sirius Black, who had escaped from under their noses.
"Expecto Patronum."
Harry struggled to say the incantation, but his wand tip showed no sign of change, not even the hazy silver mist that had appeared when he first practiced the Patronus Charm with Professor Lupin.
'Think of something happy—'
Harry told himself, desperately trying to get his numb brain to work—Sirius is innocent, his parents didn't trust the wrong person, their best friend is innocent--
"Expecto Patronum--"
This time, the wand finally showed a slight reaction. A few wisps of silver mist floated towards the Dementors, but in the face of this number of Dementors, such a weak Patronus was useless. It couldn't even dispel the cold brought by these creatures.
Although the Patronus Harry summoned was weak, it still annoyed the Dementors. Their attention briefly shifted from Sirius to Harry.
"Expecto Patronum--"
Despair enveloped Harry's heart, but he couldn't give up because no one else could protect Sirius except him.
He recalled the Firebolt, and now it seemed that Hermione's speculation was most likely correct. It was a Christmas present from Sirius, and in the battle with the werewolves, Sirius had almost sacrificed himself to protect Harry. This warm feeling made Harry's Patronus slightly stronger.
In the hazy silver mist, an indistinct stag appeared. It stumbled and rushed towards the group of Dementors, trying to drive them away. However, several Dementors stepped forward to intercept it, and the stag quickly transformed back into silver mist while facing off against the Dementors.
Harry left Hermione's side, driven by instinct, and crawled towards Sirius. His magic couldn't protect him, so he would use his body, just like how Sirius had protected him before. If these Dementors had any memory of their punishment by Professor Watson, they might show some restraint.
However, Harry had underestimated the Dementors.
A pair of powerful, cold, and sticky hands suddenly grabbed Harry's neck, lifting his face up. He could feel the foul breath spraying onto his face. They wanted to get rid of the obstacle first. As Harry listened to his mother's cries in his ear, he thought wearily.
Buzz!
In the black mist that was about to engulf him, Harry suddenly saw a growing silver light. Then, he fell onto the cold, prickly ground again.
Like the moon suddenly appearing among the treetops, shining silver light surged forward, inch by inch pushing the darkness away from Harry's side. And as it receded, so did the despair and cold.
Something had driven the Dementors away.
Harry realized this, struggling to lift his head. He saw a swift animal darting through the air, driving the Dementors in all directions until they vanished into the night.
The animal leaped and landed on the ground, passing by Harry's side through the woods, finally stopping behind a strangely shaped crooked tree. It was bright, like a unicorn. Harry strained to stay conscious, trying to see who was meeting the creature. The figure looked familiar, but it couldn't be-
The figure and the animal disappeared, and Harry sat kneeling in the dark, motionless. He was at his limit but dared not faint, fearing the Dementors might return.
Perhaps only a few minutes had passed, or maybe several hours had gone by. In any case, Harry remained in the same position like a statue, with only a trace of sanity left, focused on trying to understand why the person who had just summoned the animal had appeared.
"Harry!"
From the direction of Hogwarts, a voice filled with shock and anger called from beyond the woods. Hearing this, Harry's lips twitched, his eyelids drooped, and he collapsed to the ground.
He was safe now; Dumbledore had returned.
+++++++++++++*Scenebreak*+++++++++++++
The air in the infirmary was thick with the heady, intoxicating aroma of potions, a scent that Harry had come to associate with both comfort and dread. The light that bathed Harry's face was a gentle, dappled glow, reminiscent of sunlight filtering through leaves. It was a stark contrast to the sharp, clinical brightness that usually filled the room. He could sense the presence of someone close by, their hands deftly working to remove his garments, their touch clinical yet not unkind as they examined him.
Harry's mind, foggy and disoriented, struggled against the lethargy that weighed heavily upon his limbs. He yearned to rise, to assert some control over his unresponsive body, because in the foggy world around him, he faintly heard voices talking, and there seemed to be quite a few people.
To have so many people "observing" his body made Harry feel a bit embarrassed.
Despite his best efforts, Harry's eyelids remained stubbornly closed, as if sealed by an unseen force, rendering him frustratingly immobile and vulnerable to the curious gazes that he sensed but could not see.
Click!
The click of the door latch echoed ominously through the infirmary, heralding the arrival of new footsteps—hurried, heavy, laden with urgency. A mixture of gasps and the scraping of beds against the stone floor punctuated the tense atmosphere.
"Oh my goodness, Severus and Hagrid!" The voice of Professor McGonagall, usually so composed and authoritative, now trembled with barely contained emotion. Her words were muffled, as though her hand was clasped over her mouth in shock, her eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. "I can't believe it, Albus, I've never seen any of them so injured!"
'Hagrid is back?'
Harry's mind, sluggish and clouded, grappled with the voices, trying to anchor them to familiar faces. The mention of Hagrid sparked a flicker of recognition, and he waited with bated breath for the comforting rumble of the half-giant's voice. But the expected sound never came, leaving Harry adrift in a sea of worry and confusion.
'What happened to Hagrid?' The question gnawed at Harry's consciousness, a persistent whisper that grew louder with each passing second. An urgency took hold of him, a desperate need to open his eyes, to bear witness to the scene that had elicited such distress from his usually stoic professors.
"It's just as Miss Granger described!" Professor Flitwick's voice, typically cheerful and light, now carried an edge of horror that cut through the fog in Harry's mind. "The scene there could give someone nightmares for a whole year, Albus. Bodies were everywhere, werewolf bodies, and even two centaur bodies. I found Severus and Hagrid among the corpses, Fortunately, They are still alive. I did not dare to waste time–"
Dumbledore's eyes glowed with a blue light, He moved away from Harry's bedside with a purposeful stride, his robes billowing behind him as he approached the stretchers bearing Severus and Hagrid.
"I need you to help me assess their injuries, Poppy—" Dumbledore's voice, a blend of command and concern, broke off, leaving a silence that hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation and dread.
Madam Pomfrey, the matron of the infirmary, soon shattered the silence with her professional assessment. "Severus is just exhausted, Headmaster. He needs a good rest. As for Hagrid, well, you can see for yourself. He's suffered quite a bit. He has at least seven or eight bites, maybe even a dozen. It was those dreadful creatures. Oh my, this could lead to—"
Professor McGonagall's reaction was visceral, her body trembling as if wracked by the same pain that afflicted her colleagues. Her hand flew to her heart, clutching it as though to steady its frantic beating.
"Don't worry, Minerva—" Dumbledore's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the tension, his gaze piercing as it swept over Hagrid's prone form.
"You know, Hagrid's bloodline is resistant to that virus. He won't suffer as Remus did."
"Can you be sure, Albus?"
The uncertainty in Professor McGonagall's voice was palpable as she clung to Dumbledore's arm, her eyes searching his for reassurance.
"I can be sure, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, his tone imbued with a solemnity that left no room for doubt.
At this moment, Dumbledore clearly knew what everyone needed. His voice and emotions quickly stabilized in a short period of time, and he ordered everyone with an irresistible tone.
"Severus and Hagrid both need professional care. Poppy, only you can do this. Pomona, I need you to help me look after Mr. Weasley. Luckily, his condition is not serious, just some shock and bruises. And Filch, I'm afraid Mr. Malfoy can only be entrusted to you. I've already sent a message to St. Mungo's, and they will send someone to bring Draco back to the hospital as soon as possible. But before that, I was wondering if you could find a way to alleviate Mr. Malfoy's current troubles—"
With Dumbledore's orderly guidance, the once-panicked crowd found their purpose, their movements becoming more deliberate as they carried out his orders. One by one, they departed the ward, leaving behind only Harry and Professor McGonagall.
"What can I do, Albus?" Professor McGonagall's inquiry was tinged with concern as she gazed upon Harry, her expression a portrait of anguish.
"Although Miss Granger told us some surprising things, now is not the time to let our guard down, Minerva." Dumbledore said calmly.
"Sirius is still unconscious, and several staff members are watching over him. I need you to keep an eye on him as well, Minerva. And if possible, I would like you to bring Miss Granger here."
The chaotic noise from earlier disappeared like a dream, and Harry finally opened his eyes, eager to talk to Dumbledore. Perhaps it was his anxious mood, or perhaps it was the sudden warmth that surged from his forehead, but Harry finally opened his eyes. And the first thing he saw was Dumbledore retracting his wand.
"I apologize, Harry, I had to use a method to wake you up early–" Dumbledore said apologetically, but Harry didn't have the mood to pay attention to these things. He bounced off the bed like a spring.
"Sirius is innocent, Professor! It's Scabbers, Ron's pet rat, he's actually an Animagus, he's Peter Pettigrew!" The words tumbled from Harry's lips, each one laden with the weight of truth and desperation.
"Professor Lupin, he's badly injured, you need to save him!"
Dumbledore's response was a low murmur, a sound that seemed to carry the weight within it. "Yes, it can be expected that Remus is not in a good situation right now, but Harry, there are probably more urgent matters.... Ah, Miss Granger is here."
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