The little wizards were having a wonderful evening.
They wandered past the huge jack-o'-lanterns, all of them chatting excitedly about Hogsmeade and the ghost performances.
Every now and then, a wizard would lift a magic hand mirror and pull exaggerated faces at the reflection while talking animatedly into it.
The pies had been baked too soft, and Sean had a hard time letting them sit on the table and melt away like that.
So for Sean, today was another day of eating well, another satisfying day.
But for others—especially Lupin and Sirius—this night was full of drifting worries, like willow fluff in the wind.
The Headmaster's office was dim. During holidays, Headmaster Dumbledore always liked to stay in the Great Hall a little longer.
And so Lupin's brow never once relaxed. He kept looking at Headmaster Dumbledore, sighing now and then and closing his eyes.
The jack-o'-lanterns brightened and dimmed; the long tables in the Great Hall stood up and transformed; the little wizards would still be sleeping there again tonight.
Quite a few of them were chattering away, because these past few days had felt so novel, and they seemed to have no end of things to say.
Sean followed Professor Snape and used a "cold" look to silence the last pair of whispering Slytherins.
The Great Hall finally went completely quiet.
"Go get some rest."
Snape said expressionlessly.
Sean turned around and, naturally, saw five little wizards waving at him.
Then he looked back at Professor Snape, and at the professors seated at the High Table behind him, and realized that Mr. Lupin looked far too tense.
On the last day before the plan began, the amount of time Lupin's eyes had spent on him was almost equal to the total of the previous week.
Sean quietly looked back at Lupin once, then returned to his sleeping bag.
But as if he had just remembered something, he slowly got up and walked into the dark.
He needed to find Headmaster Dumbledore. What was about to happen at Hogwarts was something Dumbledore had a duty to know.
Lupin, who had been watching him lie down, stood up as well. He slowly finished the last sip of pumpkin juice and headed in the direction Headmaster Dumbledore had just gone.
Before he could even enter the Headmaster's office, a kindly yet puzzled voice sounded:
"Remus, it seems you've been looking for me."
Dumbledore's tall figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
Lupin seemed to have expected this. His gaze was burning and unwavering—there was no way it could have gone unnoticed.
"Professor Dumbledore. Yes."
Lupin said.
"Oh? That's unusual. For all these years, I've been the one looking for you…"
Dumbledore said teasingly.
He had always wanted to stay in touch with Lupin. His kindness had always been there, and if Lupin had been willing to accept it, Dumbledore would always have been ready to offer what little help he could.
But the truth was, Lupin had exiled himself for too long.
Over all these years, they had scarcely written to one another.
"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore. That incident hit me too hard."
Lupin said slowly, his brow drawn tight, his muscles tense, exhaustion written plainly across him.
"I'm glad…"
A kind smile appeared on Dumbledore's face.
"I'm very glad, Remus, that after all these years, you've finally admitted that."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed with quiet pleasure.
For someone whose heart had been broken to the limit, even mentioning those old wounds could tear their soul open.
But those things were like thorns in the heart.
They had to spend their whole lives learning how to live with pain.
And Dumbledore believed that admitting one's pain was the first step.
"You're always like this, Professor Dumbledore."
Lupin said, though he wasn't looking at him. Yet in his mind, he could not help seeing that kind old man holding his hand.
The hand of a boy with nowhere to go. A werewolf child. Asking him whether he wanted to come to Hogwarts.
Lupin shook his head slightly and forced the memory away.
"A long time ago, someone made a prophecy. I believe she still exists somewhere in Hogwarts, protected. To be honest, sir, I keep thinking about it. Why did the Dark Lord want to kill Harry when he was only a baby? What exactly did that prophecy say? And how was it that the Dark Lord knew of it—and so did we?"
Lupin stated it calmly, while the smile slowly faded from Dumbledore's face.
"You are shielding a criminal."
Dumbledore said coldly, looking straight at Lupin.
"I trust you. You would not help him enter this castle."
"I would never help any criminal enter Hogwarts Castle."
Lupin answered with lowered eyes and a respectful posture, and Dumbledore studied him in silence for a long while.
He slowly examined this gentle middle-aged man. There was always a stubborn kind of endurance in him.
"Professor Dumbledore, I only want to know whether anyone among us can truly be trusted. I have never tolerated even the slightest bit of leniency toward dark forces, but I need to know whether Mr. Green is safe. Only you can tell me that.
Tell me about what happened back then. How did the Dark Lord find out that a child born at the end of July would become his enemy? Who… betrayed us?"
Lupin looked straight at Dumbledore, his eyes full of both apology and an unspoken stubbornness.
Dumbledore remained silent.
Alarm bells rang in Lupin's mind. Sometimes silence was an answer.
"Perhaps he did once go astray, but I must tell you: that was never his true nature. And now, he is one of us."
Dumbledore looked at Lupin and repeated it once more.
Judging from Lupin's expression, he clearly had not accepted that—but it did not matter.
Dumbledore thought that one day, he would understand.
Dumbledore's tall body cast a long shadow across the corridor, and where that shadow twisted beneath the torchlight, a furry little head appeared from behind a suit of armor.
The black cat had not expected to stumble onto this conversation between Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Lupin.
It crouched behind the armor and watched Lupin breathe with difficulty, staring at Dumbledore.
It knew more clearly than anyone just how right Dumbledore's words were.
When it came to Professor Severus Snape, "going astray" was perhaps the most accurate way to describe him.
Compared to the other Death Eaters, the source of Snape's pursuit of power had never really been a desire to hurt others or dominate them. It had simply been the obsessive craving of an eleven-year-old child—one who had never been properly guided, who lacked any sense of security, and who desperately tried to hold together his fragile pride—an obsession with authority and status.
That obsession came from his childhood. His father did not like wizards, and that had directly created the miserable situation his mother and he lived in.
He had seen the power of wizards. He had seen his mother's weakness and his father's rage. And from that had grown the thought: why couldn't wizards fight back against Muggles?
From there, he gradually came to hate all Muggles—and even weak wizards.
It showed not only in the way he always singled out Hermione, but also in how much he disliked Neville.
The black cat's furry ears twitched. It seemed to have overheard something it really wasn't meant to hear.
So it quietly disappeared—into the darkness, and into the knowing look in Dumbledore's eyes.
The old wizard stared at the edge of the armor, his mouth twitching.
Lupin didn't think it looked like he was trying not to laugh.
Lupin left.
He carried away panic—and a duty that absolutely had to be fulfilled.
Dumbledore returned to the Headmaster's office