Sirius had arranged to meet them at the Three Broomsticks pub at noon on Saturday. Harry spent most of the crisp morning alone in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by the familiar comfort of squashy armchairs and the crackling fireplace, working halfheartedly on his Potions essay. The parchment in front of him remained stubbornly scarce with words, his mind wandering far from the properties of Strengthening Solutions that Snape had demanded they analyze.
Hermione hadn't emerged from her dormitory yet. Ever since Krum had warned her about the historically lethal nature of previous Triwizard Tournament tasks, she had transformed into something beyond her usual studious self and become absolutely obsessed.
She had practically ransacked the library—borrowing tome after ancient tome, their combined weight sufficient to make even Hagrid's massive body buckle under the strain. The books were stacked unsteadily around her bed like the walls of a literary fortress. She was frantically studying the behaviors of dangerous magical creatures and their countermeasures with her quill scratching frantically across parchment as she made detailed notes.
Day and night blurred together as she memorized incantations, defensive spells, and obscure magical theories, her eyes growing increasingly bloodshot. Anyone brave enough to attempt interrupting her obsessive studying was met with a sharp tongue and an even sharper glare that would have made Professor McGonagall proud.
Ron, perhaps seeking escape from the tension that had settled over their usual trio, had borrowed Harry's Firebolt early in the morning. The racing broom, still gleaming despite its frequent use, had been whipped away to the grounds where Ron joined Dean and Seamus for some fun flying.
When Harry had reminded him about their planned trip to Hogsmeade through the secret passage—delivered with hopeful emphasis—Ron had hesitated, his freckled face showed a flash of something unreadable before declining the invitation yet again.
The prospect of meeting Sirius had been the bright spot in Harry's thoughts ever since receiving his godfather's reply, but Ron's continued absence casted a shadow over his anticipation.
Even without Hermione's usually shrewd insights, after years of close friendship Harry was beginning to sense subtle signs that something was amiss. He was starting to suspect that Ron's strange behavior might not be solely due to concern for Hermione, as she had suggested, but something deeper— though he couldn't quite figure out what.
The common room, normally bustling with activity, was conspicuously without any female students whom Harry could ask to send up to the girls' dormitory to remind Hermione of the time. The enchanted stairs, which would transform into a smooth stone slide at any male attempt to climb them, meant Harry could only wait anxiously by himself, watching the clock on the wall tick closer to their meeting time.
"Sorry, am I late?" The words echoed in the unusually empty common room.
When there were only ten minutes remaining until eleven, Hermione burst through the archway from the girls' dormitory stairs, her usually bushy hair even more disheveled than normal, resembling a brown thundercloud around her face. As she approached, Harry's eyes widened in shock at her appearance.
"What happened to your face, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the red scratch marks on both of her cheeks. "Did you throw another one of Crookshanks' caught mice out the window again?"
He remembered the last time her cat had expressed displeasure at having his hunting trophies disposed of.
"I'll explain while we walk, Harry!" Hermione gasped out between heavy breaths, her chest heaving as though she'd run a marathon.
They hastily left the Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady calling out something indignant about their rush as they hurried past her portrait. Upon reaching a particularly deserted corner of the castle, Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak from his bag, and threw it over himself and Hermione.
Though Harry had used the magical cloak countless times since receiving it that memorable Christmas morning in his first year, wearing it during daylight hours in the castle was an entirely new set of challenges.
The corridors were swarming with students, far more numerous than during their nighttime adventures, forcing Harry and Hermione to move with care. One wrong move, one accidental bump or misplaced step, and ghost stories would be circulating through the castle faster than owl post by the time they returned from Hogsmeade.
They navigated carefully to the third floor's Gunhilda corridor. The corridor was thankfully empty, with barely a soul in sight. Harry lifted the Invisibility Cloak briefly, the cool castle air rushing to meet their warm faces, and they sprinted toward the one-eyed witch statue that guarded their secret passage.
The statue's hump opened with a whispered "Dissendium," and they scrambled inside the narrow opening, their movements skillful from previous adventures.
"I was practicing how to fight Dementors in the dormitory!" Hermione explained, her voice climbing to an almost hysterical pitch as they raced through the secret passage with their wands lit to guide them.
"I just can't seem to produce the Patronus Charm! It's absolutely maddening—no matter how many times I attempt the spell, nothing happens at all. Not even a wisp of silver smoke! This has never happened before with any spell I've tried. How do you manage it, Harry? What exactly did Professor Lupin teach you that made it work?"
"There's actually a trick to it!" Harry replied, unable to keep a note of pride from his voice—it was a novel and rather satisfying experience to know a spell that Hermione couldn't master. "You really need a Boggart to practice properly. Having that semi-real experience of facing what feels like an actual Dementor makes an enormous difference in learning this particular spell!"
"Harry—" Hermione's voice carried a hint of exasperation, tinged with what might have been frustration, "I'm not like you. A Boggart won't transform into a Dementor when it confronts me—my fears are... different. Besides," she added practically, "Boggarts aren't exactly like sweets at Honeydukes that you can simply purchase with a handful of Galleons."
"Oh, right—I hadn't thought of that—" Harry said awkwardly, feeling rather foolish. "Well... the key is really concentrating on happy memories. The more powerful and meaningful the memory, the better your chances of successfully casting the spell."
"Yeah—" Hermione's voice became distressed once more, her words tumbling out in a rush, "As you can probably tell from my current state, all I can see when I close my eyes are lovely, happy memories, not Dementors, werewolves, vampires, and other such delightful creatures that might try to kill us all!"
Harry, recognizing the sarcasm in her tone, wisely chose to remain silent on that particular point.
The secret passage between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, while safer than traveling above ground, was not a short journey.
Harry recalled from their previous year's adventures that the underground route was typically long and uncomfortably dark, but this time, despite maintaining a running pace throughout, they weren't particularly exhausted. He realized that maintaining good physical condition was becoming increasingly valuable for him even as a wizard, something he hadn't previously considered important.
When they had first entered the passage, weak autumn sunlight had been filtering through thin clouds above the castle grounds, casting pale shadows across the grass. However, upon emerging from the sweet-scented cellar of Honeydukes, they were startled to find the sky had transformed dramatically.
Dark clouds had gathered ominously above, and a fine, misty rain had begun to fall, creating a silvery haze that softened the edges of the village's thatched roofs and cobblestone streets.
"Quick, Harry, we must avoid those girls—they're from Beauxbatons—" Hermione whispered urgently, tugging at his sleeve.
During normal times, Honeydukes typically only had local village children as customers. But now Hermione had spotted several tall young women in powder-blue uniforms examining the shelves of sweet with far more enthusiasm than they'd shown during their initial tour of Hogwarts castle.
"How did they manage to get out here?" Harry wondered aloud, crouching low and following Hermione's lead as they made their stealthy exit from the sweet shop.
Outside on the rain-dampened street, they noticed more foreign students who stood out clearly from the local villagers with their distinctive uniforms.
"They're guests of the school, aren't they?" Hermione responded matter-of-factly, showing no surprise at their presence. "It's only natural they'd be granted certain privileges. Harry, we need the Invisibility Cloak again—I strongly suspect we'll encounter some of them at the Three Broomsticks as well. I've already spotted several Durmstrang students heading in that direction."
Hermione's prediction proved remarkably accurate. Upon reaching the Three Broomsticks, they discovered not just a few, but a substantial group of Durmstrang students.
Unlike Beauxbatons students' interest in sweets, the Durmstrang students appeared far more attracted to the pub's alcoholic drinks. They crowded around the bar, demanding Madam Rosmerta bring out the strongest drinks in the house, much to her evident eye-rolling displeasure.
Harry's eyes quickly scanned the rowdy group, but Krum was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if he had chosen to remain at the castle to avoid creating yet another commotion with his presence.
Still concealed beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry and Hermione carefully maneuvered through the crowded pub, dodging elbows and avoiding collisions as they searched the room.
After several tense moments of careful observation, they finally located Sirius. Despite occupying a perfectly visible position, Sirius had managed to make himself remarkably inconspicuous, a skill likely honed during his years as a fugitive. He was casually holding a glass of beer, which was barely touched, while watching the rowdy Durmstrang students with an expression that could only be described as wary less than friendly gaze.
"Sirius—"
The moment Harry caught sight of his godfather, joy erupted in his chest like a warm explosion, trying to overflow. He instinctively reached to pull off the Invisibility Cloak, eager to properly greet him, but Hermione's quick reflexes prevented the impulsive gesture.
"We can't reveal ourselves, Harry—" Hermione hissed nervously, her fingers gripping his arm with surprising strength. "Don't forget we're not supposed to be here at all!"
Sirius was far more perceptive than either of them had anticipated. He immediately detected the presence of two invisible visitors approaching his table, his facial features momentarily sharpened into an alert expression. However, within a few seconds, his face transformed into a warm, knowing smile.
"Ah, Harry and Hermione, I see you've brought James's Invisibility Cloak with you. A very prudent decision indeed!"
"How did you manage to identify us so quickly, Sirius?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with both amazement and curiosity as Harry guided her into one of the two chairs Sirius had thoughtfully positioned close to himself.
"You both still have much to learn about the art of stealth!" Sirius chuckled softly, gesturing toward the floor with a subtle movement of his hand.
Harry and Hermione looked down to discover a telling trail of wet footprints leading from the pub's entrance directly to their current position—the distinct patterns clearly belonging to one teenage boy and one teenage girl.
"Oh, that's rather clever—" Hermione admitted, her tone carrying both admiration and a hint of embarrassment at overlooking such an obvious detail.
"How have you been, Sirius!" Harry asked eagerly, leaning forward across the wooden table. Sirius looked much as he had when he'd arrived to get Harry from the Dursleys during the summer—his skin weathered and tanned by wind and sun, perhaps slightly thinner than before, but his eyes still sparkled with the same resilient good spirits.
Though Sirius couldn't see Harry's expression through the magical cloak, the obvious joy in his godson's voice told him that Harry must be grinning at him. He carefully weakened his responses, mindful that to any casual observer, he would appear to be sitting alone at his table, and too much sound might draw unwanted attention.
"Apart from being exceptionally busy, I'm finding it difficult to describe my current situation any other way, Harry—" Sirius replied, using his beer mug to hide a small smile. "But what about you, Harry? Is everything going smoothly at school?"
"Everything's fine," Harry responded quietly, his voice barely carrying above the noise of the pub.
Two months into the school year, and he hadn't encountered any life-threatening situations or mysterious dangers yet—possibly a first in several years.
"Well then, Hermione—" Sirius stared at the swirling depths of his beer contemplatively, maintaining the appearance of someone lost in thought. "I suspect your recent experiences haven't been quite so uneventful lately, have they?"
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey everyone, Iam back. Updates will be regular from now on.