章 335: 0334 Aftermath
The gusty winds of winter had finally relented, ushering in the long-awaited arrival of March. The recent weekend's Quidditch match could be considered a triumphant redemption for Oliver Wood and the entirety of the resilient Gryffindor Quidditch team members.
As the term started, the Gryffindor squad had emerged victorious against the Ravenclaw team. However, in a surprising turn of events, Ravenclaw had subsequently defeated Hufflepuff, providing the Gryffindors, who had previously suffered a devastating loss the prior term due to the terrifying dementor attack, another coveted opportunity to seize the Quidditch Cup.
This amazing result left an overwhelming majority of the young Gryffindor wizards immersed in an ocean of jubilant joy and celebration. Even Harry had briefly forgotten about the extensive and relentless coverage in the Daily Prophet concerning the ongoing investigation into the unexpected death of that traitorous scoundrel, Peter Pettigrew.
The Monday afternoon's Potions class, typically a tense and unpleasant affair, was more pleasant and tolerable than usual, perhaps due to the fact that Draco had finally returned to school to attend classes, so Snape didn't have the mindset to torment Harry too much. The two arduous Potions classes passed peacefully, and when the young wizards eagerly rushed out of the damp, oppressive dungeons onto the expansive grounds, the sky remained brilliantly illuminated by the golden rays of the sun.
The gentle evening breeze of this delightful season had effectively shed winter's biting chill, with two or three months still remaining before the oppressive heat of summer would descend upon the castle grounds. The temperate climate was utterly comfortable and alluring, prompting many young wizards to seize the opportunity before the evening meal to leisurely stroll through the elegant courtyards, along the tranquil shores of the glistening lake, and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
On the meticulously trimmed lawns, quite a significant number of young wizards had brought their broomsticks to hone their flying skills, harboring aspirations of one day representing their House team in the Quidditch matches.
"Go fetch your Firebolt and Nimbus, Harry, let's join in!" exclaimed Ron with palpable excitement as the cheerful Gryffindor group stepped out of the grand entrance hall onto the highest step of the majestic marble staircase, overlooking the jubilant scene unfolding on the lush grass lawn, now revitalized by the refreshing spring breeze.
It was quite strange– in the past, whenever the topic of Quidditch arose, Harry's enthusiasm was unmatched by anyone. However, on this particular occasion, he seemed somewhat disinterested.
"Um – good idea, Ron –"
Harry cast a fleeting glance in the direction of the school gate and absentmindedly uttered, "You know where I keep them, you can go fetch them."
Ron didn't realize anything was wrong and happily accepted the proposal. He, accompanied by Seamus and Neville, turned their heads and rushed up the stairs with great enthusiasm. After all, every opportunity to come into direct contact with a world-class broomstick like Firebolt was rare.
Snap!
Hermione, who had been diligently studying since coming from the damp dungeons, closed her book with a resounding snap. She briefly glanced at Harry and inhaled a deep breath of the refreshing evening air.
"Want to chat, Harry?"
"Oh!" Harry was mildly surprised by the unexpected invitation. "Sure, what do you want to talk about?"
Rather than standing dumbly at the entrance, the two descended the steps, circumventing the loud group of young wizards passionately practicing their flying maneuvers on the expansive lawn, and made their way toward the tranquil shore of the lake.
A light, refreshing breeze wandered lazily over the lush grounds. Ripples formed layer upon layer on the vast, glassy surface of the Black Lake, resembling a great, wrinkled golden silk sheet glistening in the dazzling reflection of the setting sun.
They both took a seat on a sizable lump of earth approximately fifty feet from the lakeshore. Hermione retrieved the well-worn book filled with meticulous annotations and began to read carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"You've been reading this particular book quite frequently as of late, what's it about?" Harry found it a bit strange that Hermione had suggested a casual chat, yet she was now fully immersed in reading a book. So, after a moment's thought, he decided to start the conversation.
"Simplified Theory of Ancient Spells," Hermione said, showing him the cover.
"The content is quite profound, especially the annotations, but I've started to find it absolutely fascinating recently—"
Hermione brushed away the wayward strands of hair dancing whimsically in front of her eyes and continued calmly.
"Ah, that's the one Professor Watson gave you—" Harry immediately recalled that this book was a gift from Professor Watson.
Hermione nodded, still focused on the beautiful handwriting in the book, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if she was thinking hard. After a long time, she finally turned to the next page.
"You've been out of sorts lately, Harry—" Hermione broached the topic directly, her voice tinged with concern, "Are you still thinking about the dark wizard who killed that traitor?"
Harry pursed his lips and did not immediately provide a response to the probing inquiry.
Well, Hermione's supposition was not entirely inaccurate, just incomplete. After the unexpected news of Peter Pettigrew's untimely death was published in the Daily Prophet, the entire Wizarding world, including the once-peaceful grounds of Hogwarts, was immediately plunged into a state of utter turmoil and pandemonium.
Everyone, from the most renowned intellectuals to the humblest of students, were enthusiastically discussing and speculating as to the identity of the individual who could have committed the murder of Peter Pettigrew, who had overnight transitioned from a celebrated war hero to a detested and despised traitor Death-Eater. The most widely accepted and widespread theory circulating was that one of the former fanatical followers of Voldemort, those who had once pledged their unwavering allegiance to his evil cause, had taken their brutal vengeance upon the treacherous rat.
After Voldemort's catastrophic downfall, the vast majority of his devoted Death Eaters, those who remained fanatically loyal to him, were swiftly detained and imprisoned within the confines of Azkaban prison. Some of the more cunning and duplicitous individuals claimed to have no ties to Voldemort, or asserted that their actions were the result of being placed under the Imperius Curse. A very small number of wizards managed to conceal their allegiance so deeply that their past wrongdoings went entirely undiscovered by the authorities.
Peter had now effectively "replaced" the previously notorious Sirius Black as the most trusted and devoted henchman of the one who shall not be named, and he undoubtedly possessed intimate knowledge of the identities of those individuals who had managed to evade capture. Therefore, after Peter's arrest, in a desperate bid to receive a more lenient punishment, he was likely to betray them and disclose their identities to the authorities. After all, there existed ample precedent for such betrayals before.
In anticipation of this inevitable outcome, it was only natural for those wizards who had successfully evaded detection to take preemptive measures and eliminate Peter, permanently silencing him before he could implicate them with him.
Peter's murder on the way to Azkaban was an unmitigated disaster and great humiliation for the Ministry of Magic. It completely shattered the competent and capable image that the Ministry had barely managed to cultivate in the period of the Greyback incident. The Minister of Magic and the other high-ranking officials were completely enraged and vowed to identify and capture the culprit within the span of a month.
However, wizards intimately familiar with the Ministry's notorious track record of uselessness and incompetence knew that their impressive promises were utterly untrustworthy and dubious at best – this was likely to become yet another unsolved cold case, destined to fall in obscurity among the Ministry's large archives of failed investigations.
Barty Crouch Sr., on the other hand, managed to emerge relatively unscathed from this fiasco through a unexpected twist of fate.
He was very lucky.
Despite his vital role in in the wrongful imprisonment of Sirius Black in Azkaban, as well as the subsequent barrage of scathing criticism leveled against him, he did not bear the brunt of the blame for this sudden and unexpected incident. Moreover, the "accidental" news that covertly leaked out of the Ministry worked decidedly in his favor, portraying him in a positive light. Barty's commanding performance during the highly publicized Wizengamot trial had effectively mitigated any significant damage to his reputation. He managed to retain his position as the Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department, and this was one of the reasons why Fudge was furious.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had been engaging in speculation during this period, attempting to discern the identity of the person responsible for Peter's gruesome murder. Their primary suspect was Lucius Malfoy, and as for the reason, they didn't need any specific evidence. They simply disliked Malfoys. Of course, their eternally sour-faced Potions master was another prime suspect in their minds; how else could one explain Snape's uncharacteristically 'pleasant' demeanor following Peter's gruesome death?
Harry himself also felt a sense of regret that he did not personally have the opportunity to kill Peter Pettigrew.
Professor Lupin had not returned to Hogwarts since that night. There were already rumors circulating that he could no longer hold his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
This wasn't too surprising news. In recent years, no professor had stayed in that position for more than a year. However, it was surprising that Professor Lupin had only lasted half a year before encountering misfortune.
The young wizards thought that Professor Watson would step in and take over Professor Lupin's vacated position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. After all, he had competently substituted for Lupin during the previous term, and had securely held that position for half a year prior to Lupin's arrival.
However, this was merely idle speculation among the students. Not long after Fenrir Greyback and his pack of werewolves were eradicated, Professor Watson had abruptly departed from Hogwarts, and had yet to return to the castle.
Professor Dumbledore had indeed returned to Hogwarts after those events, but his presence was equally fleeting, as he too had subsequently disappeared from the castle once more, much to the confusion of students and staff.
Though the day-to-day operations and activities at Hogwarts continued to proceed as normal during their respective absences, with classes and extracurricular activities unaffected, Harry till felt something was off. He had the feeling that with just those two gone from Hogwarts, the school seemed half-empty.
Yet Harry kept these unsettling thoughts to himself, unwilling to share his private considerations even with his closest friends; Ron and Hermione. After the Dementor incident the previous term, he had already endured a prolonged period of being branded as a 'coward' by his peers, an experience he had no desire to relive again.
"Yes, it is rather puzzling, isn't it?" Harry sighed, his voice tinged with a tone of little interest.
"I wonder if it was Malfoy's father who arranged that traitor's murder. I miss the taste of Polyjuice Potion, Hermione. We should have kept a reserve supply on hand for such emergencies."
Their previous adventures involving the use of Polyjuice Potion had caused a rather unpleasant experience for Hermione. She glanced up from her book, shooting Harry an irritated glance. She was about to say something when two figures entering her view made the words die in her mouth, her expression turning perplexed.
"Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall?"
Hermione furrowed her brow and stared at the black robes fluttering like bats and the brisk figure, wondering,
"It seems like they're heading to the Forbidden Forest?"
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章 336: 0335 A Farewell in the Forbidden Forest
The crimson sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the ancient grounds of Hogwarts. In this ethereal light, two solitary figures could be seen striding purposefully towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, their robes flowing behind them.
Their hurried pace and furrowed brows showed a sense of urgency, drawing bewildered looks from the young wizards who crossed their path.
Why were Professors Snape and McGonagall striding so hurriedly towards the Forbidden Forest?
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances filled with confusion and curiosity, their eyes following the professors's retreating figures until they disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping to her feet, her bushy hair tumbling about her shoulders. Almost simultaneously, Harry jolted upright, his emerald eyes light with understanding.
"I've got it!"
Without uttering a word, Harry immediately understood the meaning behind Hermione's call. He was glad he didn't go back to the dormitory with Ron. Without the invisibility cloak, He knew his tracking skills were not enough to follow the two head of the houses.
Swiftly, Harry took out the cloak from his bag, casting a cautious glance around them before draping it over himself and Hermione. With breaths held and hearts pounding, they set off in pursuit of Snape and McGonagall, their footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath their feet.
"I'd bet Ron will regret missing out on something important again!" Harry whispered, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.
"That's not necessarily true, Harry--" Hermione panted, struggling to keep pace while lugging her bulging bag. "You do realize what we're doing, right? Following professors is against the rules; maybe Ron will be lucky enough to avoid detention this time."
Despite her rebuke, Hermione's actions betrayed no hesitation as she followed Harry's lead, her curiosity overriding her sense of propriety.
What could have happened that made Snape and McGonagall so urgent? If it was only Snape going to the Forbidden Forest, Harry's speculations would have been numerous. However, McGonagall was accompanying him, which made many of Harry's guesses unreliable.
Several minutes later, the figures of Snape and McGonagall became clearer to the young wizards trailing behind. Instinctively, they slowed their pace, afraid that the crunching of fallen leaves beneath their feet might alert their presence.
To their surprise, the professors did not delve deeper into the heart of the Forbidden Forest. Instead, they turned towards the distant intersection where the Black Lake's waters met the forest's edge.
It was only after twenty arduous minutes, when the clamor of youthful voices from the Hogwarts grounds had faded entirely, that Snape and McGonagall unexpectedly turned onto a narrow but well-flattened path, disappearing into the lush embrace of the ancient woods.
"I never knew there was a place like this in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe even Fred and George haven't been here!" Harry exclaimed in astonishment, his voice muffled by the Invisibility Cloak.
Though the ground beneath their feet was carpeted with a thick layer of fallen leaves, the path itself appeared remarkably clean, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. The towering pine trees that flanked the trail on either side were similarly tinged with fiery tones, their needles sparkling like jewels in the fading light. Behind them, the gentle lapping of the Black Lake's waters against the shore mingled with the ethereal chirping of forest birds and buzzing insects, enveloping Harry and Hermione in a world that seemed plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
"Shh— keep it down, Harry, we'll be heard!" Hermione warned perceptively. However, as her gaze settled upon the moss-covered large stones nestled amidst the lush bushes, she couldn't stifle a gasp of realization. "This place must be very ancient--"
Following the trail of Hermione's wide-eyed stare, Harry's own gaze fell upon the ancient stones, and he immediately understood the weight behind her exclamation.
The standing stones scattered throughout the forest were not mere rocks, but grave markers – their inscriptions barely legible after years of erosion from wind and rain, obscured by the green moss that clung to their weathered surfaces.
As the gravity of their surroundings dawned upon her, Hermione's face paled, a terrible notion leaping into her brilliant mind. The once-friendly atmosphere now seemed ominous, the fresh forest air carrying an icy chill that caused her lips to quiver with each trembling breath.
"Whose could it be, Harry--" she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Hermione turned her head to look at Harry and noticed that his face was also ashen, realizing that he had the same dreadful suspicion as her.
"Could it – could it be – you see, Professors Snape and McGonagall, they're the Heads of House...Harry, is it possible--"
"Absolutely not!" Harry's face was drained of color, but he replied resolutely despite not knowing the answer.
The two professors leading the way maintained a solemn silence, their heads bowed as they navigated the path with efficient paces. After a few more minutes of tense anticipation, McGonagall's sharp gaze stopped upon a spacious and breathtakingly beautiful circular clearing ahead, as meticulously tended as a cultivated garden.
"I see them, Severus--" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. Without further pause, the pair quickened their pace, their robes swirling around their ankles as they hastened towards the gathering.
Dumbledore, Bryan, Sirius, Remus– lying motionless upon a stretcher, his body covered in white bandages – and Kreacher, the devoted house-elf of the Black family. And there, at the center of this somber assembly, lay the eternally youthful face of Regulus Black, resting peacefully upon a strip of emerald velvet.
"You two made it here quite quickly, Professors Snape and Professor McGonagall--" Bryan greeted them warmly, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow as he returned his wand to the folds of his sleeve, a faint smile playing upon his lips.
"I've just finished preparing this place."
"We rushed over as soon as we received Albus's message, Bryan--" Professor McGonagall replied, her voice strained as she clutched at her chest, her eyes glistening with unshed tears at the sight of Regulus Black's pale face.
While the garden Bryan had arranged appeared plucked from the pages of a fairytale, the atmosphere that enveloped them was far from fairy-tale like.
Dumbledore stood with his hands folded solemnly before him, his expression solemn. Remus mirrored the Headmaster's solemn appearance, though his face showed a hint of guilt – This was not surprising, as he was the only one lying down to attend the funeral.
Sirius sat beside his brother, his gaze fixed upon the face of the sibling with whom he had once shared an unbreakable bond growing up. His tense facial muscles twitched erratically, showing the internal struggle to restrain the tempest of emotions that raged within him. In stark contrast, Kreacher, the ever-loyal house-elf of the Black family, made no attempt to conceal his grief.
Kreacher threw himself under the table carrying Regulus's body, and from his barely audible sobbing, it was clear he had been crying for hours.
Snape's eyes roamed over the solemnly familiar face of Regulus Black. He had known Regulus since their time at Hogwarts; he was his senior after all. Of course, because of Sirius, he didn't like this housemate several years below him. In fact, it was only after leaving Hogwarts to follow the Dark Lord that he and Regulus had more interactions.
Later, Regulus disappeared without a trace, and Snape never paid much attention to it. After all, he had so many troubles at the time. But he never expected that many years later, he would see Regulus Black again in this situation.
Regulus's pale face lay devoid of the haughty arrogance that had so personified his youth, replaced by an expression of profound peace and release from the burdens he had borne.
Snape gazed intently at Regulus's face, his expression blank. In a daze, that listless face seemed just like his own.
'Can I be freed?'
Snape asked himself in his heart, and the answer to this question stung him. He turned his gaze away and focused on the figure on the stretcher, wrapped in white bandages all over his body, with only his face exposed. At this moment, Remus was trying hard to raise his head and bid a solemn farewell to Regulus.
Snape's eyes were full of gloating and he almost laughed out loud seeing Remus like this.
"Well, since you're here, Harry, and Hermione, come over too. Let's send off this departing hero together--" Bryan's voice cut through the heavy silence, rich with solemnity. With a sweep of his arm, he gestured towards a towering oak tree, its twisted branches reaching skyward like arms.
Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes twinkled knowingly in the direction Bryan had indicated. To the astonishment of the gathered mourners, two sheepish figures emerged from the tangled roots of the ancient tree.
It was an unexpected and unanticipated sequence of events that unfolded before their very eyes.
When Harry and Hermione inadvertently spotted Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Watson amidst the group of people, they realized they could no longer remain hidden. Since Harry received the Invisibility Cloak during his first year's Christmas, these were the only two wizards who saw through its disguise.
Professor McGonagall looked somewhat surprised as the two young wizards approaching hesitantly and asked, "How did you find us?"
"It was quite obvious, Minerva," Snape sneered mockingly, his disdainful tone conveying a sense of mockery towards the naivety of her inquiry.
The two students from her own house, had brazenly trailed the movements of their professors, ultimately exposing themselves before the Headmaster. Professor McGonagall's face hardened noticeably as she prepared to sternly reprimand them. However, at that precise moment, Sirius turned his head and beckoned kindly to Harry and Hermione.
"Come over here, Harry. And you must be Hermione, am I correct? Remus and Bryan have spoken highly of you,"
Hermione felt the warmth of a crimson blush fill her cheeks, the overwhelming sensation of embarrassment washing over her, but she still followed Harry's lead and approached Sirius.
Harry stood beside Sirius, his emerald eyes studying the man before him intently. There was a lingering sadness that flickered within the depths of Sirius's eyes but he looked much better than he did a month ago in the Forbidden Forest. Yet, in stark contrast to the haggard and wicked-looking appearance that had been depicted in the wanted posters, dressed in the attire of a prisoner, Sirius now appeared closer to the young and handsome wizard standing next to his parents in the photo album Hagrid gave him.
Sirius placed his hand naturally on Harry's shoulder, and Harry felt no discomfort, as though they had known each other for years. However, this was not the case - prior to this, they had only met once under misunderstandings.
A gentle breeze came, and the golden sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns of light on the ground. Dumbledore sniffed, his voice deeper than Harry had ever heard it.
"This is the best we can do, Sirius," Dumbledore said, his words laced with an apologetic tone as he addressed the grieving man before him.
"I understand your desire to give your brother a grand funeral, but as I explained to you, it is not appropriate to publicly announce Regulus's position and his death in the fight against Voldemort. It involves some extremely important secrets that are not suitable for the public to know."
"Your brother?" Harry blurted out instinctively, his brow furrowing in surprise as his gaze fell upon the face of the young wizard whose body lay before them. However, as he studied the striking similarities between their appearances, a startling realization began to take root within his mind. He had initially presumed this person to be Sirius's son or perhaps a nephew, given their undeniable physical resemblance and the man's obvious age.
But... he died fighting against Voldemort? Harry was shocked.
In the eyes of the general public, Voldemort had allegedly met his demise twelve years ago, and even if that were not the case, he was no longer perceived as an imminent threat. However, Harry and his friends knew that the truth was vastly different.
During his first year at Hogwarts, Voldemort had possessed one of their professors in an attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone and regain his powers. Could it be that Voldemort had made a similar move recently, and Sirius's brother had sacrificed himself stopping him?
"I have no objections, Dumbledore," Sirius replied, his voice heavy with sorrow yet tinged with resolve. "And I believe Regulus would be well-satisfied with this arrangement."
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