The corridor inside the castle was dimly lit.
Sagres stopped before the heavy oak door of the Defence Against the Dark Arts office. A brass nameplate hung upon it: Professor Remus Lupin.
He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the door, the sound clear and measured.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There was no response from within.
After a few seconds, the faint rustle of hurried movement could be heard, followed by Professor Lupin's voice. Despite his effort to keep it steady, it still carried a trace of fatigue and hoarseness. "Come in."
Sagres turned the doorknob without hesitation.
The hinges groaned softly as the door opened, revealing the office beyond. Books were neatly stacked, a small fire burned in the fireplace, and Lupin stood beside his desk. His face was even paler than it had been on the stands, his eyes unsettled, with a hint of wariness beneath the surface.
"We meet again, Professor Lupin," Sagres said calmly, his gaze briefly sweeping the room before settling on Lupin. "I hope I haven't disturbed you."
He stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him, the lock clicking softly.
Within the office, only the quiet crackle of the fire remained, along with an invisible sense of pressure hanging in the air.
Lupin looked at him with a complicated expression, then turned away to pour a glass of water.
"Is there something you need?" He handed the glass to Sagres.
Sagres accepted it, his tone even. "Given the special circumstances currently facing the castle, and Sirius Black in particular, I believe it is necessary for us to exchange information. Is this a convenient time to talk?"
Lupin's fingers curled unconsciously.
"About Black?" He was silent for a moment before turning back to Sagres. "What is it you want to know? The Ministry of Magic's information should be more comprehensive than mine."
"Official reports often remain on the surface, Professor."
Sagres took a sip of water but did not sit down, remaining at a measured distance from the desk, neither too near nor too far, like a quiet shadow.
"I am more interested in the details. For example, what magic does he favour? His possible hiding places, and… whether he has any unusual traits. After all," his voice remained calm, every word precise, "I understand you were once one of his closest friends at Hogwarts."
A heavy silence settled over the office, stretching so long that even the fire in the hearth seemed to dim.
"Friends?" Lupin lifted his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Yes."
He drew in a deep breath, suppressing the faint tremor in his voice. "We were friends. The best of friends. James, me, Peter… and him."
Lupin's voice grew quieter, taking on a fractured, dreamlike quality. "But now James is dead. Killed by the betrayal of the person he trusted most. Peter is dead as well—his body gone, leaving behind… only a finger."
He struggled to force out the last few words, as though each syllable made it harder to breathe. "And Sirius… the man I once would have trusted with my life… betrayed everyone. He personally destroyed the only three friends I had."
He paused, his voice dropping suddenly. "Now I am back at Hogwarts. It feels like a grand, beautiful dream. All the laughter and adventures in those corridors… it feels as though it happened yesterday."
He shook his head faintly, his empty gaze sweeping across the bookshelves as if searching for long-vanished phantoms. "And then… the dream ended."
Lowering his eyes, he stared at his slightly trembling hands. "Nothing is left. As though it never existed. All the trust, all the friendship… turned to ashes."
The office sank into a deathly silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of burning wood and Lupin's heavy breathing.
At last, he looked up. The wariness and defensiveness were gone from his face, replaced by numbness and bottomless sorrow, as though he had been completely hollowed out.
"What do you want to know from me, Professor Greengrass?" There was no emotion left in his voice.
"Anything you are willing to tell me," Sagres replied, his tone still calm.
"Is that so…" Lupin leaned wearily against the desk behind him, his body swaying slightly, as if the last strength holding him upright had been drained by his own words, leaving only a shell crushed by the past. "Then I have nothing to say."
The office fell silent once more.
No questioning. No challenge. Not even the slightest trace of unnecessary emotion.
Sagres simply stood there in silence, like a cold stone statue. The firelight from the hearth danced in his grey eyes, yet reflected no warmth.
A few seconds later, just as the suffocating silence was about to reach its peak, Sagres gave a very slight nod, the motion so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
"Understood." His voice remained perfectly steady, without the slightest ripple, as though Lupin's heartfelt confession had never occurred. "Then I shall take my leave, Professor."
He turned without hesitation and walked straight to the door.
The lock clicked softly once more as the door closed behind him, sealing away the despair that filled the office.
Sagres had no intention of forcing Lupin. He could largely understand why the man was unwilling to speak of the past.
A despised werewolf who had finally found three close friends at Hogwarts, only for that hard-won bond to vanish overnight because of the betrayal of one of them.
He could easily imagine how utterly shattered Lupin must have been upon hearing the truth.
But that had nothing to do with him. He had no interest in their past, and he was there only to gather information. Using Veritaserum on Lupin had never been a real option.
Having steadied his thoughts, Sagres continued down the corridor. The aroma of food and the faint hum of voices drifted from the direction of the Great Hall, and he quickened his pace.
As he rounded a corner lined with portraits, a heated argument suddenly burst into his ears.
"It was staring at Scabbers the wrong way! Hermione, I'm telling you, it wanted to eat him!"
Ron's voice was sharp with anger and urgency. His face was flushed, and his hand gripped the rat Scabbers tightly. The creature was curled into a trembling ball, looking utterly pitiful.
Hermione, holding her large ginger cat Crookshanks, shot back without backing down. "Crookshanks was just curious! It's in a cat's nature to be curious about rats, Ron. He's never actually hurt Scabbers, has he?"
Crookshanks purred deeply in Hermione's arms, his large eyes fixed unblinkingly on Scabbers in Ron's hand. The look was indeed one of intense curiosity.
"Never hurt him?" Ron raised his voice. "What do you call hurting him? Chewing Scabbers up and swallowing him whole?"
Harry, caught between them, looked weary and helpless as he tried to mediate. "All right, stop arguing, Ron. Scabbers is fine, isn't he? Hermione, maybe Crookshanks could… stay a bit farther away? Scabbers does look rather unwell…"
"More than unwell!" Ron carefully tucked Scabbers into his pocket. "He won't even take his Rat Tonic."
He turned his face with a huff. Hermione, meanwhile, stroked her cat and abruptly changed the subject.
"Oh, Harry, your Hogsmeade permission form. Your uncle didn't sign it, did he?" Hermione asked.
Harry's expression fell, and he nodded glumly. "No, he didn't."
"Then you should go and ask Professor McGonagall," Ron said eagerly, momentarily forgetting the feud between Scabbers and Crookshanks. "See if she can… er… make an exception? Without a signature?"
Hermione frowned. "Ron, rules are rules, and Professor McGonagall is very strict. Still, Harry, it's definitely worth explaining your situation. Should we go with you?"
"Yes, let's go together!" Ron agreed at once.
Harry looked at his two friends, both clearly concerned for him, and some of his frustration eased under the warmth of it. "All right. Let's try…"
Just as they quickened their pace and passed a broom cupboard in the corridor, the rat in Ron's pocket suddenly began to struggle violently.
"Hmm? What is it Scabb—Huh..?"
"Scabbers!" Ron cried, glancing down—his pocket was empty.
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