章 425: 0424 Magical
Harry stood rooted, his emerald eyes widening to the point where they threatened to pop out of their sockets. The sight before him was magical, far surpassing even his wildest imaginings. He barely registered Mr. Weasley's enthusiastic boasting in the background, so captivated was he by the expansive vibrant spectacle that unfolded across the vast expanse of lawn stretching out before them.
The gently rolling green field, which seemed to extend endlessly towards the distant, dark line of an ancient forest, was absolutely packed with life and color. Thousands upon thousands of tents blanketed the landscape, arranged in neat, orderly rows that created a patchwork of fabric and magic. The sheer scale of it all was breathtaking.
Most of the tents, Harry observed with amusement, were clearly attempts by their wizard owners to blend in with the Muggle world. These unremarkable structures stood in stark contrast to the more flamboyant creations that dotted the landscape. Some fanatical magic users had gone to great lengths to outdo their neighbors, resulting in a delightful hodgepodge of architectural absurdities.
Harry's gaze was drawn to a particularly ostentatious tent nearby, which had not only a decorative brick chimney complete with curling smoke, but also an intricately carved wooden door with a shiny brass knocker and – most bizarrely – a fully functional weathervane perched atop its peaked roof.
As his eyes traveled further afield, towards the edge of the forest, Harry noticed that the tents became even more outlandish and diverse. Here, wizarding culture from around the globe was on full display, with no attempts made to conceal the magical nature.
A group of tents that looked like they'd been plucked straight from the Arabian Nights stood proudly, their silk walls shimmering with ever-changing patterns of starlight and desert landscapes. Nearby, a collection of structures that resembled traditional Japanese pagodas stretched towards the sky, their roofs were decorated with softly tinkling wind chimes that played haunting melodies.
Even more eye-catching was an enormous tent crafted entirely from what appeared to be living ice. Despite the warm summer air, a light dusting of snow continuously fell around its perimeter, much to the delight of a group of young children who danced and played near it.
Harry's ears were assaulted by a symphony of different languages, He even caught snippets of languages he couldn't begin to identify – was that person actually speaking Mermish, or had he imagined the haunting, gurgling sounds?
Amidst the sea of tents, a constant stream of people moved to and fro, their robes and outfits a riot of colors and styles that reflected the truly international nature of the event. Harry spotted a group of African wizards draped in vivid kente cloth, their wands tucked behind their ears as they discussed what sounded like Quidditch strategies. Not far from them, a cluster of witches wearing headdresses that Hermione recognized as traditional Russian kokoshniks haggled cheerfully with a vendor over the price of some steaming meat pies.
The vendors themselves added another layer of excitement to the already electric atmosphere. Everywhere Harry looked, there were peddlers hawking their products from enchanted carts and stalls. Some of these magical merchants pushed carts like that of the trolley on the Hogwarts Express, loaded with familiar treats like Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Others offered more exotic goods – Harry's mouth watered at the sight of a cart piled high with glistening, rainbow-hued fruits that he'd never seen before.
One particularly enthusiastic vendor, his hat adorned with what looked suspiciously like live leprechauns, was shouting at the top of his lungs as he demonstrated a set of self-shuffling playing cards. Every few seconds, the cards would leap from his hands, perform an intricate aerial dance, and then neatly reassemble themselves into a perfect deck.
"It's truly impressive, Arthur!" Sirius's voice cut through Harry's reverie, drawing his attention back to the group. Harry turned to see Sirius's face blazing with genuine admiration. "The Ministry occasionally manages to do something worthwhile. You've essentially built a city here. Tell me, have you counted how many people have come to watch the match?"
Mr. Weasley's chest puffed out with pride, his thinning red hair catching the morning sunlight as he grinned at Sirius. "When I got the tickets from Ludo, he mentioned that they'd sold about a hundred thousand tickets in total. I reckon those who managed to get tickets wouldn't pass up the chance to come, so... I'd say no fewer than a hundred thousand people!"
The number hung in the air for a moment.
'A hundred thousand!' Harry felt his jaw drop, and he wasn't alone. Even the Weasley children, who had grown up immersed in the Wizarding world, looked utterly gobsmacked. Ron's freckles stood out even more prominently against his suddenly pale face, while the twins, Fred and George, for once seemed at a loss for words.
"I never imagined there were so many wizards!" Harry finally managed to say, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Mr. Weasley's eyes twinkled as he observed the stunned faces of the young people around him. "The wizarding world is much more than just Hogwarts, children—" he said with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Then, glancing at the sun that had now fully risen above the horizon, he clapped his hands briskly. "Come on, kids. The match starts tonight, so we have a whole day to explore this spectacle. First, we need to set up our tent, then make a fire—all using Muggle methods, as per Ministry regulations!"
Harry couldn't help but grin at Mr. Weasley's enthusiasm for Muggle ways, even as he noticed that the Ministry's regulations didn't seem to carry much weight here. Just a stone's throw away, a group of wizards who looked like they might be from somewhere in Africa were conjuring a large, shimmering purple fire with casual flicks of their wands.
Harry knew Mr. Weasley's style well enough by now to recognize that for him, the prospect of trying out Muggle living methods might be even more exciting than the upcoming Quidditch match. The gleam in Mr. Weasley's eyes as he patted the pockets of his Muggle-style jacket, searching for matches, was unmistakable.
"No need to bother with the tent, Arthur—" Sirius interjected gently, placing a hand on Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "A week ago, I had Kreacher—that's the Black family's house-elf—come and set up the tent. Remus should have arrived last night and is probably waiting for us now!"
Mr. Weasley's face fell so comically that Harry had to stifle a laugh. "Oh, what?" he said, looking as though someone had just told him Christmas had been canceled. "Well... but there are quite a few of us. Are you sure we don't need to put up another tent?"
Sirius, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Mr. Weasley's disappointment, waved a hand dismissively. "I'm certain, Arthur. The tent Kreacher brought is one my father used to use. It could comfortably house about twenty trolls, so it's more than enough for all of us."
At this, Harry and the others couldn't contain their amusement any longer. They giggled quietly, exchanging knowing looks. It was clear that Sirius, for all his good intentions, didn't quite grasp the depth of Mr. Weasley's fascination with Muggle methods.
Seemingly unaware of the quiet laughter, Sirius took charge, his eyes scanning the expansive campground with the keen gaze in order to position himself in these unfamiliar surroundings. After a moment, he nodded decisively and began leading them down the gently sloping hill they had been standing on.
As they made their way through the labyrinth of tents, the delicious aroma of cooking food began to permeate the air. It seemed that breakfast was a universal custom for wizards from all corners of the globe. All around them, bleary-eyed campers were emerging from their tents, yawning and stretching as they set about lighting fires and preparing morning meals.
They passed the spot where Harry had earlier seen the purple magical flames, and now he saw that the group of African wizards had put their fire to good use. They were in the process of roasting what looked like plump, juicy rabbits over the enchanted flames. The scent was mouthwatering, and Harry's stomach gave an involuntary growl.
A little further on, they encountered a group of middle-aged American witches who were just leaving a vendor's cart. Each witch had an armful of Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that made Harry's sweet tooth ache with longing.
"They're selling Jelly Slugs and Exploding Bonbons over there—" Ginny's excited voice suddenly came up, causing the group to halt. Harry turned to see her tugging on Hermione's sleeve, her brown eyes wide with enthusiasm. "Let's go buy some."
As the two girls darted off towards the candy vendor, the rest of the group paused to wait. Harry took the opportunity to continue observing the fascinating scenes unfolding around them.
His gaze followed the group of American women who had just passed by, watching as they made their way towards a cluster of high-topped tents. These structures were particularly eye-catching, with shimmering banners and their national flag – the stars and stripes fluttering in the breeze – strung between them. A large sign, its letters seeming to dance and sparkle read: "Salem Witches' Institute."
As Harry watched, he noticed several young witches and wizards, some appearing to be about his own age or even younger, moving between these tents. They carried books and wands, chattering excitedly amongst themselves in distinctly American accents.
"They're not from Hogwarts?" The question slipped out before Harry could stop it, and he immediately felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. Of course they weren't from Hogwarts – the banner made that abundantly clear.
"Hogwarts isn't the only place that teaches magic, Harry—" Sirius said, draping an arm over Harry's shoulders. He had clearly understood the reason for Harry's surprise and explained with a smile, "There are magic schools all over the world. Seven of them are as famous as Hogwarts and recognized by the International Confederation of Wizards. The rest are either too small or have extremely strict admission requirements, and they prefer to keep a low profile, so it's impossible to count exactly how many there are."
Before Harry could fully process this new information, Ron chimed in with a story of his own. "Bill used to have a pen pal who went to a school in Brazil... that was years ago," he said, his freckled face scrunching up slightly as he recalled the details. "He wanted to do an exchange visit, but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. When he wrote to say he couldn't go, that pen pal got angry and sent Bill a cursed hat that made his ears shrivel up."
"Ahem—" Mr. Weasley coughed awkwardly, explaining, "Your mother and I thought... it wasn't safe. Bill hadn't really figured out who this person was. What if he'd been tricked? Bill wasn't of age then."
Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley's ears had turned bright red, indicating he was under pressure—just like Ron when he was stressed.
"Let's go!" The two girls came bouncing back, their arms full of not just Jelly Slugs and Exploding Bonbons, but many other sweets Harry couldn't name. As they distributed their treats among the group, Harry got a peculiar piece of gum.
Curious, he popped it into his mouth and began to chew. For a moment, nothing happened, and Harry wondered if perhaps this was just ordinary Muggle gum. Then, without warning, the gum expanded rapidly, forming an enormous bubble that engulfed his entire head making it twice its normal size. Harry's muffled yelp of surprise was drowned out by the raucous laughter of his friends as they observed his comically enlarged head.
"Now that's a clever idea!" George said, eyeing Harry's enlarged head with interest, while Ginny frantically searched for the gum wrapper to see if there were instructions on how to return Harry's head to normal.
"Looks like some sort of Engorgement Charm—" Sirius said cheerfully, comforting the nearly tearful Ginny. "Don't worry, Ginny. Remus is waiting for us in the tent, and he's particularly good at dealing with these little tricks. Ah, thee he is, I think I see him. Oh, just our luck..."
The sudden shift in Sirius's tone, caught everyone's attention. Harry, still struggling with his oversized head, squinted in the direction Sirius was looking. He spotted Remus in the distance, looking as kindly as ever, but that wasn't what had caused Sirius's change in demeanor.
Just beyond where Remus stood, Harry's eyes fell upon a distinctive tent. It was extravagantly draped in striped silk; its walls were shimmering with what should be the protective enchantments. The structure more closely resembled a miniature palace than a camping tent, complete with gold-plated poles and fluttering emblems bearing a coat of arms Harry didn't recognize but instinctively disliked. And as if the tent itself weren't ostentatious enough, several magnificent peacocks were tethered at its entrance.
"Oh—" Mr. Weasley's face darkened as he realized what Sirius meant. "The Malfoys' tent."
"What!" Harry stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as a wave of horror washed over him. His head was still comically oversized, and if his biggest rival at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy, saw him in this embarrassing state, he'd have material to mock Harry for the entire upcoming school year – and probably beyond it.
Harry desperately wanted to hide, to shrink away and become invisible, but it was too late. They were already close enough to the tent that running or hiding would be impossible without being noticed. And as if the universe itself was conspiring against him, at that very moment, the tent flap was pushed aside and a familiar figure stepped out.
Draco emerged into the sunlight, his white-blond hair gleaming like polished silver. He was impeccably dressed in expensive wizarding robes that seemed entirely too formal for a camping trip. His pale, pointed face wore its usual expression of bored disdain as he glanced around, checking to see who his mother was speaking to. Instinctively, his eyes fell on Harry with his enlarged head.
Draco's grey eyes showed a moment of confusion before his mouth twisted into a sarcastic sneer, making Harry's heart sink.
Draco's mother was about to turn and scold him, warning him about a "dangerous werewolf" outside and telling him to go back inside the tent. But before she could voice her admonishment, she noticed her son's sudden change in expression.
Narcissa, noticing Draco's mocking look, followed his gaze and her already cold features became even more rigid as she spotted Sirius approaching with a stony face.
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章 426: 0425 Relatives
At the entrance of the palace-like tent, Draco stood in an impeccable suit, raising an eyebrow and casting a slightly mocking gaze at Harry, whose head had swollen due to the bubble gum Ginny had given him. Draco completely ignored the fact that two of his former professors were standing right in front of him.
"What's going on, Remus?" Sirius asked in a low voice, his brow furrowed deeply as he addressed Remus, who was currently engaged in a silent standoff with Narcissa Malfoy.
Remus pressed his lips together. His amber eyes reflected a mixture of exhaustion and helplessness. Running a hand through his prematurely graying hair, he replied in a hushed tone, "It's Kreacher. He took it upon himself to invite your... to be a guest in the tent. I noticed the commotion outside, so I came to investigate."
"That disloyal traitor!" Sirius cursed without restraint, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he fought to control his temper. "Where's Kreacher now? Where did the little backstabber run off to?"
Remus's expression softened slightly at his friend's outburst. "I've already sent him to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you all," he said, trying to diffuse the situation. "I thought it best to keep him occupied and out of sight for now."
Sirius, whose complexion was already darkened from over two weeks of sunbathing at sea, turned an even deeper shade. The tan that had given him a healthy glow now seemed to emphasize the storm brewing in his eyes. With a determined set to his jaw, he strode past Remus, taking his place in the tense standoff with Draco's mother.
"You're not welcome in my tent. Leave!"
Faced with Sirius's harsh rebuke, Narcissa showed little outward reaction, but a keen observer might have noticed the slight tightening around her eyes and the almost imperceptible lift of her chin.
Draco, however, was not nearly as adept at hiding his emotions. His pale face suddenly flushed an angry red, the color creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks. He glared at Sirius with unbridled fury, as he seemed about to step forward to defend his mother's dignity. However, Narcissa's hand, adorned with glittering rings, shot out to hold Draco back.
Simultaneously, Arthur his kind face etched with concern, moved to restrain Harry and the others who were instinctively edging forward to join the fray. His hand gently pushed against Harry's chest, and he shook his head slightly at the boy, whose swollen features did nothing to mask his determination. Arthur's voice was soft but authoritative as he said, "Let them handle it, Harry. You youngsters shouldn't interfere in adult matters."
Hermione, her bushy brown hair even more wild than usual in the morning air, frowned deeply as she stood behind Arthur. In a low voice that barely carried to those around her, she asked, "What's going on? That's Malfoy's mom... She seems to know Sirius?"
Harry blinked, finally realizing as he watched the cold confrontation between Sirius and Malfoy's mother that they might indeed know each other. Before he could voice his confusion, Ron spoke in a rather disdainful tone:
"There's nothing strange about that, is there? Sirius's family is very famous and Pureblood wizard families have been intermarrying for hundreds of years. If you trace it back far enough, even Malfoy and I are relatives!"
The last part was said with a grimace, as if the very thought left a bad taste in his mouth.
Even with his eyes squeezed into slits due to his swollen face, Harry still managed to widen them in shock as he stared at Ron. The fact that Ron was actually related to Malfoy, even distantly, was quite a surprise to Harry. It made him realize just how little he truly understood about the complex web of relationships in the wizarding world.
"Your tent—" Narcissa Malfoy's voice cut through the air like a knife. She seemed to have originally intended not to speak to Sirius at all, but his rude tone appeared to have pierced her icy facade, igniting a spark of anger. She put on a disgusted expression, as if she had smelled something unpleasant.
Narcissa's gaze swept over the tent left behind by Sirius's father, her eyes narrowing as if she were examining a particularly offensive piece of rubbish in a second-hand market. Her lips curled into a sneer as she took in every detail of the once-grand structure.
To be fair, Sirius's tent was still quite impressive in its own right. Its style didn't pale in comparison to the other luxurious dwellings that dotted the campground. The fabric was a deep, rich burgundy, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that seemed to move and shimmer in the early morning light.
However, the ravages of time and neglect were evident upon closer inspection. The fabric, while still rich in color, was tattered at the edges and bore unmistakable signs of moth damage. Patches of the once-vibrant embroidery had come loose, leaving gaps in the elegant designs. The ropes and poles that held the tent upright showed signs of wear, and there was a general air of mustiness that showed years of neglect.
The sorry state of the tent was a direct result of years of neglect. Over the past decade, Grimmauld Place had been maintained solely by Kreacher, the Black family's ancient house-elf. However, Kreacher had spent most of his time flattering the shrieking portrait of Sirius's mother, barely finding time or feeling to properly clean or maintain the Black family's numerous properties. This prolonged negligence had resulted in the tent falling into a state of disrepair that was impossible to fully disguise, even with magic.
"Is this all that's left of the Black family in your hands? Just these worn-out relics?" Narcissa's voice dripped with disdain, each word carefully chosen to inflict maximum damage. Her haughty expression spoke volumes about her opinion of Sirius in the family legacy. "Would you like to hear how Walburga evaluated you when she was alive? 'A good-for-nothing' was spot on, wasn't it? No wonder she emptied the Black family vault before she died, not leaving you a single coin."
At the mention of his mother, a flash of gloom crossed Sirius's dark face, quickly masked by anger. The muscles in his jaw tightened visibly as he clenched his teeth. It was clear that he didn't care about the galleons hidden in the goblin's underground vaults at Gringotts, but the mutual suspicion and hatred between mother and son was evidently not a wound that had healed with time. Having such a painful family history spoken of so coldly by an outsider, even one related by blood, was like salt being rubbed into an old but still tender wound.
"I'm not like you—" Sirius began, his voice low and controlled as he fought to suppress the anger boiling in his heart. His grey eyes now held an icy coldness that could rival Narcissa's own glacial stare. "I don't need to rely on galleons or constantly boast about my ridiculous bloodline to hold my head high and get through life."
Harry, despite his comically swollen features, felt a surge of pride for his godfather. He was about to cheer for Sirius, his hand already half-raised in support. Even Remus, standing slightly to the side, couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
Draco's reaction, however, was far from amused. His pale cheeks, which had only just returned to their normal color, suddenly flushed a violent shade of red that clashed horribly with his platinum hair. In a move so swift it seemed almost instinctive, his hand darted to his pocket. In one fluid motion, he drew his wand out and pointed it directly at Sirius, as his arm trembled with the force of his anger.
A low growl escaped Draco's throat, similar to a wolf whose territory had been invaded. His grey eyes, so like his mother's, were wide with fury as he snarled, "Apologize to my mother, now!"
"Watch out!" Harry's shout pierced the tense atmosphere, his voice slightly muffled by his swollen cheeks. In an instant, the scene transformed from a tense verbal confrontation to a potentially dangerous magical standoff.
Except for Mr. Weasley, who maintained his position, Harry and Hermione, along with Ron and his siblings, had instinctively taken defensive stances the moment Draco showed signs of attacking. Wands appeared in hands, each pointed steadily despite the trembling fingers that held them. In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere between the two groups became charged with potential violence.
Wizards passing by looked at the scene in astonishment, their morning stroll to breakfast was suddenly interrupted by what appeared to be an impending duel. Some quick-witted individuals were already running towards the distance to report the situation to the campsite managers.
To be honest, the threat from a young wizard like Draco wasn't taken particularly seriously by seasoned wizards like Sirius and Remus. Both men had faced far worse in their lives –However, as they looked at Draco pointing his wand at them with such naked hostility, disappointment showed clearly in both their eyes. After all, no matter how much they were at odds with the Malfoy family, Draco had once been their student at Hogwarts.
"Put your wands away, all of you!" Mr. Weasley's voice cut through the tension. His tone was no longer that of his usual good-natured self, but carried an authority that seemed to surprise even his own children.
Mr. Weasley looked sternly at his children until, one by one, Harry and the others reluctantly lowered their wands. Satisfied that his side were under control, Mr. Weasley turned his attention to Draco. His voice was firm but not unkind.
"Please put your wand away, young Mr. Malfoy. No fighting is allowed here!"
"Why should I listen to you?" Draco's arm didn't move an inch.
Mr. Weasley's patience, while considerable, was not infinite. His kind face hardened slightly as he stepped forward, straightening his shoulders as he faced Draco.
"I'm sorry, young Mr. Malfoy," he said, his voice taking on an edge of anger that his children rarely heard. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I feel obliged to remind you that I am a Ministry official. It's my responsibility to maintain order here." His blue eyes bored into Draco's grey ones as he continued, "Are you prepared to launch an attack in front of a Ministry official? Are you ready to face the consequences of such an action?"
Mr. Weasley's words were clearly unexpected by Draco. Draco had never taken the Weasley family seriously before, dismissing them as blood traitors unworthy of his attention. But now, with quite a crowd gathering to watch the unfolding drama, he found himself in a difficult position.
"Put your wand away, Draco. These riffraff aren't worth it." Narcissa was more level-headed than Draco. She knew that under these circumstances, with so many witnesses and a Ministry official present, it was no longer appropriate or advantageous to continue arguing with this group.
Moreover, Arthur Weasley was, after all, a long-serving Ministry official from a pureblood family, regardless of their blood traitor status. If things really escalated, it might prove difficult for her husband, Lucius, to handle the political fallout. The last thing the Malfoy family needed was more scrutiny from the Ministry, especially with the whispers of dark activities that still clung to their name like shadows.
Narcissa lowered Draco's arm. She gazed deeply at Sirius, as if trying to memorize his face, then put her arm around Draco's shoulders and raised her voice slightly.
"Let's go, Draco, We'll visit the Greengrass family's tent. I'm sure they'll provide much more... suitable company." Her pause was deliberate, her next words chosen with surgical precision to inflict maximum damage. "There's no need to argue with a criminal from Azkaban and a werewolf. It's beneath us."
The effect of Narcissa's words was immediate. The crowd, which had been murmuring quietly amongst themselves, suddenly erupted into a cacophony of gasps, exclamations, and hurried whispers. Many of the foreign wizards, who had been drawn to the confrontation out of simple curiosity, now looked at Remus and Sirius with undisguised terror.
The more timid members of the audience began to back away, their eyes wide with fear as they regarded the two men as if they had suddenly transformed into dementors before their very eyes.
Faced with people's pointing and whispering, Sirius and Remus looked grim. However, they couldn't explain anything to these uninformed foreigners, especially since, in a sense, Narcissa Malfoy wasn't lying. Remus was indeed a genuine werewolf, and Sirius had indeed spent a third of his life in the infamous Azkaban.
"Stop right there, Malfoy!" A sudden surge of anger welled up in Harry's heart. He raised his wand again, shouting at Malfoy's back.
Draco, who had been allowing his mother to guide him away from the confrontation, paused at Harry's call. He turned slowly, a sneer already forming on his face. As he took in Harry's ridiculous appearance, the sneer morphed into a look of malicious amusement.
"You look quite amusing, Potter, Oh, planning to make a grand appearance at the World Cup, are you?"
Draco was thoroughly satisfied with Sirius and Remus's embarrassment and he wasn't at all concerned about Harry's raised wand. Perhaps it was the presence of so many witnesses, or maybe he simply couldn't take Harry seriously given his current appearance. Whatever the reason, Draco's posture remained relaxed, almost lazy in its arrogance.
With a final sneer, Draco turned away, following his mother without so much as a backward glance as they disappeared around the corner of a nearby tent.
As soon as the Malfoys were out of sight, the crowd's attention snapped back to Harry.
"Potter? Is that Harry Potter?" The question rippled through the crowd, passing from person to person in an excited hush. Eyes that had moments ago been wide with fear now shone with curiosity and admiration.
"It is him!" someone else confirmed, their voice tinged with wonder. "Even though his face is swollen, I saw his scar when he raised his wand!"
"Oh, he's the one who defeated You-Know-Who!" The exclamation came from a wizard with a thick Eastern European accent. He turned to his companion, tugging excitedly on the sleeve of their robe. "Cam, quickly get my camera. I want to take a photo of Harry Potter. Your mother has always been curious about him!"
The mention of cameras seemed to break a dam, and suddenly there was a flurry of movement as people began rummaging in bags and pockets for their own magical cameras. Although people were afraid of werewolves and criminals, the foreign wizards who had just backed away couldn't resist their curiosity and slowly began to approach.
"Quick, get inside, Harry—" Harry stood dumbfounded, not expecting so many foreigners to have heard of his name. Hermione, the first to come to her senses, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards the tent.
Harry allowed himself to be led, still blinking in confusion at the rapid turn of events.
"Huh—" Sirius took a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair in a gesture of mixed exasperation and resignation. "Let's go, Harry, we'll talk inside."
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