Harry wiped his hands clean with a simple magical trick after finishing off the last bite of his roasted pork ribs. He stood up and stepped out into the darkness beyond the castle.
"Hey, Harry, what's the rush? Wait for me—ow! What was that for?" Ron had barely grabbed two drumsticks to chase after him when Hermione smacked him on the back with a thick book.
"Are you seriously thinking of following him? Have you already forgotten what Harry's planning to do tonight?" Hermione glared at Ron with exasperation. "Honestly, is there anything in that head of yours besides food?!"
"What's Harry up to tonight?" Ron asked, scratching his head with the same hand that held his drumstick, leaving his hair greasy and messy. As he did, he caught sight of Professor Snape rising from the faculty table, his face dark as he too made his way outside.
"Oh..."
A long "Oh" escaped Ron's lips as realization dawned.
"Should we... go check it out?" Ron's excitement grew. He knew firsthand just how powerful Harry was. If Harry was about to duel Snape, who was also formidable, then it would surely be an epic showdown!
"...We can, but at the very least, we should inform Professor McGonagall first," Hermione hesitated. She had originally intended to stop Ron from meddling, but remembering the determination in Harry's voice, she couldn't help but feel worried. She and Ron had no power to interfere in a duel between Harry and Snape—but Professor McGonagall was a different story.
"Uh... I don't think we need to," Ron muttered, swallowing hard as he noticed several other professors—Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and a few more—rising from their seats and making their way outside as well.
Things seemed to be escalating more than he'd expected...
--
Above the castle, thick clouds drifted across the sky, obscuring the crescent moon. With the moonlight gone, Hogwarts and the surrounding forest and lake plunged into darkness. The cold night wind howled as Harry stood alone by the Black Lake. The previous day's snowfall had mostly melted under the feet of students, leaving behind patches of damp grass. Apart from the occasional sound of bubbles breaking the lake's surface, the only other noise was the faint murmur of voices carrying over from the castle.
Then.
A third sound joined them.
Footsteps—hesitant yet unhurried—drew closer and stopped four or five meters away.
"To be honest, I don't really remember my parents," Harry murmured, tilting his head back to look at the heavy clouds overhead. "But their blood runs in my veins. So, no matter whether it was direct or indirect, I have to settle the score with the one who killed them."
He bent down, picked up a branch, and with a flick of his wand, transfigured it into a sharp dagger. Turning, he met Snape's gaze.
In those dark eyes, Harry saw regret, resignation, and nostalgia—but not a hint of battle intent.
"Not going to fight back, Snape? Or is it..." Harry took a slow step forward, dagger in hand. "You saw me and thought of my mother, so you don't want to raise your wand?"
He closed the distance between them, but Snape remained still, his eyes locked on Harry's emerald gaze.
Snape opened his mouth as if to speak—but before he could utter a word, a streak of green light suddenly shot towards them from the distance, aiming directly at Harry Potter.
Without thinking, Snape lunged forward, knocking Harry to the ground.
The first Killing Curse whizzed past Snape's head, striking the grass a dozen meters away and leaving a shallow crater. But the next six green flashes sealed off every possible escape route.
Faced with inevitable death, Snape did not panic. Instead, he smiled, a look of peace crossing his face. He spread his arms, shielding Harry beneath him, and lifted his head, embracing the fate that awaited him.
Dying to save Lily's son... it didn't seem like such a bad ending, Snape thought.
But the expected pain never came. Instead, he felt a tremor beneath him, followed by six thunderous explosions.
He opened his eyes in confusion—only to see three massive stones, each half his height, standing between them and their attackers. The shattered remains of blasted rock lay scattered across the ground.
Those stones had blocked the Killing Curses.
"Severus! Harry! Are you both alright?" A galloping sound echoed through the night as Dumbledore leapt off a white horse. With a wave of his wand, the horse transformed into a stone wall, shielding them from further attack. For once, the old man's voice held an uncharacteristic urgency as he looked down at the two of them.
Snape steadied himself. "I'm fi—"
"I am NOT fine!" Harry exploded, jumping to his feet. He, of all people, had almost been taken out by an ambush?! Outrage filled him as he turned toward the direction of the attack. Across the Black Lake, a shadowy figure was retreating into the forest.
"Think you can run? Not a chance!"
With a sharp "Ah," Harry vanished from the spot, reappearing over the lake a hundred meters away. Another "Ah," and he was at the lake's center. By the fourth flash, he was directly above the fleeing attacker.
Only five seconds had passed since the first attack.
Dumbledore and the others watched in shock as the figure below was suddenly engulfed in a raging golden fire. Desperate, the attacker transformed into black mist and shot into the sky, attempting to escape—but the golden flames clung to him like a curse.
The mist plunged into the lake, yet even the icy waters could not extinguish the fire. A few moments later, the dark figure reemerged, thrashing violently before vanishing completely in the blazing inferno.
Harry and Snape's duel was left unfinished.
--
One day later, Dumbledore attended the Ministry of Magic's trial for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black.
Two days later, the Daily Prophet dedicated two entire pages to praising the Ministry's so-called brilliant efforts in uncovering the truth and righting past wrongs.
The Ministry of Magic Declares Sirius Black Innocent, Sentences Peter Pettigrew to Life in Azkaban
By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter
Following a series of shocking events, the Ministry of Magic has officially declared Sirius Black—the last heir of the House of Black, once falsely accused of murder and Death Eater affiliation—completely innocent. Meanwhile, the true criminal, Peter Pettigrew, has been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban Fortress.
Under the wise leadership of Minister Cornelius Fudge, the Aurors conducted a rigorous investigation, ultimately restoring justice and exposing Pettigrew's heinous crimes.
During the trial, Pettigrew's betrayal sent shockwaves through the entire wizarding world. His treachery led to the loss of countless innocent lives.
Minister Fudge personally attended the trial and stated, "The Ministry deeply regrets the unjust treatment of Mr. Sirius Black. We are relieved to have corrected this historic mistake. We also strongly condemn Peter Pettigrew's despicable actions."
As Ron finished reading the article, he snorted and tossed the paper aside. "So after all that, the Ministry's taking all the credit? Typical."
"It's not like it does us any harm," Harry said, reaching into his teacup to retrieve the envelope that an irresponsible owl had just dropped in. He gave it a shake to rid it of the black tea. "Fudge likes his reputation? Then let him enjoy the pleasures that come with it. As long as he doesn't go against us, I'd support him even if he wanted to sleep with a toad... Ah, it's from Sirius Black."
The moment they heard it was a letter from Sirius Black, Ron, Seamus, and the others immediately crowded around in curiosity. Even Hermione, who was happily gnawing on a roasted lamb chop across from Harry, cast a curious glance his way.
"Harry, hurry up and open it!" Dean urged.
Tearing open the envelope, Harry pulled out a parchment that looked rather expensive, its edges trimmed with gold.
Dear Harry,
I'm sitting in a teahouse in Diagon Alley writing this letter to you. Even with a quill in my hand, I find myself at a loss for words. No amount of writing can fully express my gratitude.
First of all, I want to say—thank you, Harry. Without you, I'd probably still be rotting away in Azkaban, enduring the Dementors' torment day after day, existing like a lifeless corpse.
It was your efforts that brought Peter Pettigrew—the true culprit behind James and Lily's deaths—to justice in Azkaban. Dumbledore has told me everything. Though, to be honest, I'd have preferred if you had just killed him on the spot... but regardless, it's a good thing to be back in the world again.
The noise around me feels both unfamiliar and comforting. Every smile I see, every greeting I hear—it's all warmth I haven't felt in so long. In Azkaban, such things simply didn't exist.
I think I might start a new life here. Maybe open a little shop, or take on some other kind of work. But whatever I choose to do, I'll make sure it brings me happiness—and hopefully, those around me as well.
There's something I'm not sure if Dumbledore has told you. (There's a large inkblot here, as if the writer had hesitated for a long time.)
Harry, James and Lily originally chose me to be your godfather. Even though I spent the past decade locked away in Azkaban and failed to fulfill my duties, I still hope you'll accept me and allow me to remain your godfather.
Forgive my messy handwriting—my hand doesn't obey me well when I'm feeling emotional. I look forward to seeing you soon. We can share a Butterbeer and swap stories.
Thank you again for everything, Harry. You are your father's son, and James would be proud of you.
Forever yours,
Sirius Black
P.S. I heard Zonko's Joke Shop just got a batch of biting accordions. I think they'd make the perfect gift for our next meeting.
Looking at the hastily written letter, Harry laughed—a laugh full of genuine happiness.
That afternoon, Hedwig carried Harry's reply into the sky, shrinking into a tiny speck before finally vanishing into the snowy expanse.
As December set in, the weather grew even colder. Many students ended up with chilblains from spending too much time playing in the snow. Sensing a business opportunity, the Weasley twins seized the chance to promote their newly developed anti-chilblain potion among the students. Just a single drop on the affected area, and within half an hour, you'd never have to suffer from chilblains again.
Madam Pomfrey also had a remedy for chilblains in the hospital wing—and it was free—but, well, everyone knew what those potions were like. The effects were top-notch, but the taste... was also top-notch in its own way. So most young wizards preferred to spend a Sickle or two at the twins' shop to keep a bottle of the ointment handy—just in case.
Another person who made a tidy "little" profit was Dumbledore, who—at the request of the centaurs and behind Hagrid's back—had spent several nights with Harry thinning out the Acromantula population in the Forbidden Forest.
Yet, despite the ever-lengthening experience bar before Harry's eyes, nearly two hundred Acromantulas later, he had only just managed to level up from nine to ten.
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