Since Sirius Black had managed to slip into Hogwarts without anyone noticing, it was only natural that last night's search turned up nothing.
From the Astronomy Tower's peak to the depths of the Great Lake, the professors—including Dumbledore himself—found no sign of any suspicious figure. Simply put, Sirius had vanished from the castle as if he had evaporated into thin air.
If not for the fact that the Fat Lady still seemed relatively composed, and her portrait bore clear signs of an attack, people might have started questioning whether she had misseen or mistaken her assailant...
...
After the incident, the most talked-about topic in Hogwarts wasn't the upcoming Quidditch match or even the wizard duels dubbed the "opening battle."
Instead, everyone was obsessed with one question—how Sirius Black, such a dangerous man, had managed to infiltrate Hogwarts in the first place.
Among the many theories, the idea that "there's a traitor among us" gained the most support from the young wizards—and before anyone realized it, that rumor was spreading like wildfire.
But...
"Which idiot came up with that?"
Pansy looked particularly irritable that morning. The forceful way she dropped into her seat made Draco glance at her, puzzled. "Not feeling well? Want some hot water?"
"..."
"..."
Draco's blunt comment left Pansy momentarily stunned, her anger giving way to a faint blush. Unlike the confused Goyle and Crabbe nearby, Pansy—sharp and quick to read between the lines—immediately understood what Draco was implying.
And in that instant, she really wanted to dump the cup of hot water he'd offered right over his head.
"You're the one who's not feeling well! I mean—don't you guys know what's going on?"
"Know what?"
Pansy sighed and rubbed her forehead in frustration. Then she remembered—thanks to their daily combat training, Goyle and Crabbe were usually so exhausted they could barely function, let alone keep up with the latest gossip.
As for Draco, well... he rarely paid attention to anything that didn't involve magic.
"Parkinson, you mean the rumor that Draco's being accused of working with Sirius Black, right?"
Before Pansy could answer, Astoria—who, for some reason, was there again—spoke up smoothly, cutting right in.
Her calm, elegant manner as she sipped her tea made Pansy's eye twitch.
She wanted nothing more than to ask why this woman, who clearly had her eye on her treasure, kept showing up here.
Hearing this for the first time, Goyle and Crabbe turned in shock toward Draco. "Draco's an accomplice? You're kidding, right?"
Uninterested in replying to such a stupid question, Draco instead looked over at the two girls now glaring daggers at each other.
"What exactly are the rumors saying?"
"Hmph. Everyone knows your family's ties to the Blacks aren't exactly a secret. Add in a few people fanning the flames, and of course suspicion landed on you," Pansy said sharply.
"I see. That is a reasonable suspicion," Draco said calmly.
"Is this really the time to admire it!?"
Fuming, Pansy slammed her hand against the table, unconcerned that other students were watching. The angry, flustered version of her—so different from her usual poised demeanor at formal gatherings—made Astoria's eyes flicker briefly with interest.
After a deep breath, Pansy crossed her arms and glared at Goyle and Crabbe.
The hem of her robe barely covered her long legs, and her figure—already more striking than most witches'—stood out even more with that posture. Everyone in Slytherin knew that when Pansy crossed her arms like that, someone was about to be in trouble.
"I'm willing to bet those words came straight from some Weasley's mouth again. So you'd better make sure to teach them a lesson in the dueling match. If you lose... hmph."
"..."
"..."
Those last few hums were quiet but carried enough menace to make Goyle and Crabbe shrink back slightly.
They didn't really believe they'd lose to any Weasley—but even so, Pansy's tone sent a chill down their spines.
It seemed they now had one more reason they absolutely couldn't afford to lose...
...
The damaged portrait of the Fat Lady had been taken down and replaced with one of Sir Cadogan and his stout, short-legged gray pony.
No one in Gryffindor was happy about it. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging students to duels and the other half coming up with complicated, nonsensical passwords.
At his worst, he changed the password five times in a single day, leaving the young lions utterly exasperated.
Naturally, the perpetually scatterbrained Neville Longbottom suffered the most. Without writing the passwords down, he might have had to spend his nights wandering the castle corridors...
On the surface, the Sirius Black incident seemed to have blown over. But in truth, everyone knew that as long as he wasn't caught, he remained a lurking threat in the shadows.
Apparently, the Ministry of Magic—having caught wind of the situation—immediately made some changes to the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts.
"So? How's the Ministry handling it?"
"According to reports, they've asked Dumbledore to loosen restrictions on the Dementors. If necessary..."
"To let those creatures into Hogwarts to conduct a search?"
"Yes."
"Ha. Looks like our dear Minister is a coward after all."
As his followers discussed the matter, Draco narrowed his eyes and took a slow sip of his Gurdyroot tea. The strong, bitter tang jolted him awake.
Tapping his fingers lightly against the rim of his cup, Draco fell into thought.
Putting aside whether letting Dementors into Hogwarts was even a good idea—something he doubted Dumbledore would ever agree to—what truly caught his attention was the relationship between those two men.
From that piece of information alone, one thing was clear:
The Minister of Magic, a man whose position had been propped up in part by the Greatest Wizard himself, was no longer content to live in Dumbledore's shadow.
Whether it was power... or position...