"That man really showed up—to kill Harry Potter!"
Whispers like this started spreading through Hogwarts.
To all the young witches and wizards, Sirius Black was nothing short of a complete lunatic, a murderous madman, Voldemort's loyal servant, and his right-hand man. Twelve years ago, he supposedly blew up an entire street with a single curse, killing thirteen people.
If his attack on the Fat Lady could be brushed off as something else, his latest stunt—breaking into the Gryffindor common room and ransacking Harry's dormitory—could only mean one thing.
He had his sights set on Harry Potter!
And that same day, he sent Harry a Firebolt!
The fact that Harry turned the Firebolt over to the teachers caused quite a stir. Word got around that Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was so thrilled about Harry getting a Firebolt that he even asked to borrow it for the team.
For three whole days, the students of Hogwarts couldn't stop talking about it.
Gryffindors thought it was thrilling and celebrated for two nights straight.
Ravenclaws tried to analyze Sirius Black's motives but came up empty-handed.
Slytherins were convinced it was all part of some sinister plot, that Sirius was scheming something unspeakable.
As for Hufflepuffs, they found the whole thing terrifying. They refused to go anywhere alone and doubled their food intake to cope.
Midnight Slytherin Gathering
"Black's got some nerve, openly challenging Potter like that," one Slytherin remarked.
To the Slytherins, that Firebolt was a blatant taunt from Black to Harry, a declaration of war. They were certain the broom was laced with some wicked curse—why else would someone send you the wizarding equivalent of a supercar?
"You think Mr. Dursley will step in?" a curious young Slytherin asked.
Another shook their head immediately. "A nobody like Black? Not worth Mr. Dursley's time. Potter can handle him."
No sooner had they said that than someone else chimed in, "Maybe not. Don't forget—Potter's been keeping a low profile."
Harry aced every practical class, but when it came to theory, he always seemed to fumble. To the Slytherins, that was him deliberately holding back.
One thing they all agreed on, though: "Black's as good as done."
Just like after the Fat Lady incident, though, Sirius Black vanished without a trace after causing havoc in Gryffindor Tower.
Time marched on to the weekend, and nearly every student in third year and above was buzzing with excitement.
Per Hogwarts rules, weekends meant students could visit the wizarding village of Hogsmeade—as long as their parents or guardians signed off.
Dudley, of course, had no trouble getting permission, and Harry got his signature too. Normally, weekends were busier for Dudley and his crew than school days, so they stayed at Hogwarts. Hogsmeade didn't hold much appeal since they could visit anytime during holidays.
This week, though, the professors were tied up patrolling for Sirius Black, leaving no one to give them extra lessons. For once, they had free time.
"I think we should take a break this weekend," Hermione suggested. "How about a trip to Hogsmeade to unwind?"
The moment she said it, the room went dead silent. Everyone's eyes snapped to her, jaws practically on the floor.
Hermione? Suggesting a break? Was this the same Hermione who constantly preached, "There's no time to waste, we need to study!" or "If you don't learn now, what's the point when you're old?" or "Final exams are only XX days away!"?
Had Sirius Black swapped her out or something?
Seeing their expressions, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Relaxing properly can actually boost your study efficiency," she said matter-of-factly. "Wizards might look down on Muggles, but sometimes Muggles make more sense than we do. We need to approach learning scientifically."
Neville, ever the earnest one, piped up, "What's science?"
"It's a system as impressive as magic," Dudley answered.
Neville dutifully scribbled it down. Dudley had taught him that writing things down was better than relying on a shaky memory, especially since Neville's wasn't the best.
"Actually, I was thinking we should all take it easy this weekend too," Dudley added. "And I've got something else to announce."
Neville's eyes widened. "Are you and Hermione getting married?"
The room froze. Ron, who'd been sneaking a snack, choked and sprayed crumbs all over Harry's face.
Draco, never one to miss a chance for drama, flailed his arms theatrically. "Oh, Big D, thank you for charming our study prefect, discipline prefect, life prefect, and labor prefect!"
Those terms were straight from Dudley's Muggle vocabulary.
"Wait, no, you're not old enough to get married," Neville said slowly, as if just realizing it.
Hermione's face turned beet red, and she couldn't string a sentence together.
Dudley, seeing the conversation derail, sighed. "If you lot don't want to go, we can just keep studying this weekend."
Instantly, they all transformed into perfect little angels, chiming in unison, "We're totally fine with it!"
Even the most dedicated students need a break sometimes.
Months into the school year, Harry and his friends hadn't been to Hogsmeade once. It was study, study, study. Their discipline alone earned them grudging respect from the other students.
Sure, everyone knew hard work paid off, but asking other young witches and wizards to follow their lead? No chance. Studying was tough enough as it was—weekends were for going all out, for treating yourself.
That weekend, the group agreed to meet on the path to Hogsmeade.
Instead of hitting Honeydukes like most students, they made a beeline for the Three Broomsticks. There, they ordered frothy butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta and settled in to enjoy.
Harry skipped the soda water this time—no little umbrellas on top, so what was the point?
"Tastes great," Ron said, downing half his butterbeer in one go and letting out a long, satisfied burp.
"Tch, Robin Hood, that's just crude—burp," Draco started to tease, only to cut himself off with an involuntary burp of his own.
Ron shot him a smug, knowing look, and Draco squirmed awkwardly.
Dudley came to the rescue. "Remember that pocket money project I mentioned at the end of last term?"