— — — — — —
Once the court was dismissed, Harry walked down the stairs. Lost and unsure of himself, he stopped in front of Dumbledore and Sirius Black, not knowing what kind of attitude his godfather would have toward him.
Would he be disappointed?
Dumbledore patted Sirius on the shoulder, hinting for him to turn around.
"H-Hi," Harry greeted stiffly.
Sirius straightened up and looked back. He saw Harry standing there, tension written all over him—those bright green eyes filled with hope, but also a flicker of insecurity.
For a moment, Sirius went blank.
Set aside those green eyes that were almost a perfect copy of Lily's—Harry looked so much like a young James... it hurt.
Just like that, Sirius was dragged back to his youth—the days when he and James ruled the school, wild and untouchable, drunk on laughter and freedom.
Only the weakness in his body reminded him that it was all just memory.
James was gone. Dead because of his stupidity and Peter Pettigrew's betrayal.
"Harry…" Sirius responded, just as awkward.
Harry knew pathetically little about Sirius—only that he had been his father's closest friend and was named his godfather before Harry was even born.
To go to Azkaban for eleven years without protest over a decision he didn't even make—that alone told Harry plenty about how much Sirius had loved his father.
But would he like him?
Silence fell between them. It was Dumbledore who broke it with a chuckle. "Sirius, it's been what—over ten years since you last saw Harry?"
"Yeah," Sirius nodded and even gestured with his hands. "Last time I saw him, he was only this big… Ah—Harry, I even held you back then. You smiled at me, too."
He looked at Harry, still a little restrained, but gently said, "You know… I'm your godfather."
"I know," Harry said.
"Right… Your father named me your guardian." Sirius spoke a bit uneasily. "I didn't do my duty before. I failed James and Lily. But now, my name is cleared. I want to make it up to you. If you're willing, we can live together. I'll take care of you."
Harry's heart just about soared. "Leave the Dursleys? Of course! That'd be amazing. I've got some money from my parents—we could buy a little house somewhere quiet."
"House?" At that, Sirius suddenly puffed up with confidence. "Harry, I'm not exactly short on money. I've got houses—plenty of houses. Do you like London? Or we could go to Yorkshire, Liverpool—wherever you want."
Just as the two of them were starting to dream up this brand-new life, Dumbledore had to step in like the villain of the moment.
"It does sound wonderful," he said apologetically, "but I'm afraid, Sirius—Harry cannot leave the Dursleys just yet."
"Why?!" x2
Both of them blurted it out at the same time, identical shock and irritation on their faces.
"For Harry's safety," Dumbledore said, his tone serious. Without them even noticing, a soundproof enchantment had surrounded them. "Voldemort was defeated, but he is still alive. He will return, and when he does, he will come for Harry."
"I'll protect him!" Sirius said instantly. "I swear it on my life!"
"…" Harry was overwhelmed—he had never felt this kind of warmth before.
But he also caught a flaw in Dumbledore's reasoning. "Professor, if Voldemort really comes back, wouldn't staying at the Dursleys be more dangerous?"
"No. You'll be safe there. The Dursleys too."
Dumbledore shook his head and calmly explained, "Lily used her life to invoke an ancient magic. Because of it, you survived that night. That power hasn't vanished—it's still flowing in your blood. That's also why you were able to harm Voldemort in your first year."
"And to keep that magic active, you must return to the Dursleys every year and treat that place as your home, until you come of age."
Sirius and Harry stared at him, stunned into silence.
After a long moment, Sirius spoke reluctantly, "I understand… But can I at least come visit him? Take him out for a few days now and then?"
Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "That's allowed. Harry stayed at the Burrow last year."
Sirius relaxes a little. "The Weasleys, huh? Haven't seen that lot in ages."
"Are you done?" a cold voice cut in from behind them. Sirius turned, and his smile vanished instantly. "Snape. You're still here?"
Yes, Snape had been a key witness and certainly helped just now, but expecting Sirius to greet him kindly was asking too much.
"I'm taking Potter back," Snape said coolly. "Or did you want to volunteer?"
"Why don't you change out of those clothes first, so the Dursleys don't think Potter's been hanging around with criminals."
"I'm in a good mood today. I won't fight you," Sirius said through gritted teeth. Then to Harry, he added, "Go on ahead. I'll come see you as soon as I sort myself out. Number 4, Privet Drive, right?"
"Yeah. I'll… I'll see you."
Harry didn't want to leave so soon, but Snape had already grabbed him and was dragging him out of the courtroom.
Dumbledore watched them go with a small smile. "Severus is actually a very good man."
"Do you even believe that when you say it?"
Now that the weight in his chest had lifted and he'd reunited with Harry, Sirius's old mischievous nature slipped right back in. "Oh, right—I have one more favor to ask you."
"What is it?" Dumbledore paused and looked back.
Sirius rubbed his hands together. "I want to thank Tom Riddle in person. If he hadn't used the Marauder's Map to track down Peter, I'd never have had the chance to see Harry again—and I wouldn't have known my enemy was still alive."
"Well…" Dumbledore didn't answer immediately. He started walking, motioning Sirius to follow.
"That was indeed Tom's doing. I even invited him to observe the hearing today, but unfortunately, he seemed busy and declined."
"If you want to see him, it may be a bit difficult for the time being."
"No rush," Sirius shrugged. "It even gives me time to think about what kind of gift would be fitting to show my gratitude."
"Nothing too extravagant. Books or something knowledge-related would be best," Dumbledore suggested. "Tom doesn't lack money, and wealth doesn't interest him much."
If Tom heard Dumbledore backstabbing him like that, he'd never have skipped today's trial. Sirius Black came from an old, wealthy house. If he handed over a thank-you gift, it wouldn't be some useless trinket.
He was really desperate for money right now.
Fortunately, Snape was about to deliver his pot of gold.
---
The next day, North Sea.
The Ministry placed great importance on Peter Pettigrew—or rather, Fudge did. Pettigrew was his key weapon against Crouch. As long as Pettigrew remained in Azkaban, it would forever stain Crouch's career.
So, ten Aurors were assigned just to transport him. Two manned the thestral-drawn carriage, while the other eight followed by broom.
Inside the carriage, Pettigrew's hands and feet were shackled. Now that they knew he was an Animagus, the restraints had been specially made—if he made even the slightest attempt to cast a spell, the cuffs would snap tight and inject a paralytic toxin.
The convoy departed from London, heading north toward the North Sea.
Azkaban stood on a remote island in the middle of the North Sea, close to Norwegian waters.
So the journey wasn't short—it would take a full day's flight to reach the island.
...
About four hours after leaving the mainland, the Aurors landed on a small island to rest.
High on the island's tallest hill, Tom and Snape stood overlooking the forest where the group had stopped.
"Professor, I've got to say, you're a real professional. You even predicted their rest stop."
Both of them were dressed in black robes and pointed hoods—the typical Death Eater attire.
"Michael, you should be calling me Francis right now," Snape muttered darkly. With the mask between them, Tom couldn't see his expression.
Finding the Aurors' resting spot hadn't been hard for Snape. He'd never personally been locked in Azkaban, but that didn't mean he was clueless.
Slytherin students had no shortage of parents who'd done time there—especially the old batch of Death Eaters from back in the day. Snape had escaped that fate by sheer luck, and in the process, he'd picked up plenty of information from careless remarks by those very same parents. He didn't even need to ask around.
"Do we move now?" Tom asked.
"Be careful. If your identity is exposed, I won't be able to save you. You'll have to go crying to Dumbledore."
Snape cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and headed down the hill. Apparition was off the table—the Aurors had properly set up alert wards around their temporary camp.
Through Tom's eyes, Snape vanished from sight, but his magic trail only became more obvious, oozing with a kind of greasy slickness that made Tom snort.
He raised his wand toward the sky, ready to cover Snape's approach.
---
"Bloody hell, why is it so cold?"
Dawlish—one of the Aurors—cursed as he bit viciously into his sandwich.
Another Auror laughed. "The further north we go, the colder it gets. Don't tell me you've forgotten basic geography."
"Of course not. I just think it's rubbish luck that I got stuck with transport duty."
Dawlish was fuming. The long flight was annoying enough, but what he really dreaded was arriving at Azkaban and having to deal with Dementors. Nobody liked those creatures.
Moments later, dark clouds gathered overhead, thunder murmuring between them.
"This isn't right," Shacklebolt said sharply, looking up. "That's not natural cloud buildup! Someone's casting!"
"No way," Dawlish scoffed. "Who'd be stupid enough to pick a fight in the middle of nowhere—"
He didn't even finish before a barrage of massive fireballs roared down, obliterating the defensive wards in an instant. At the same time, the crystal sphere carried by one of the Aurors flared with blinding light and let out a piercing hum.
"Stupefy!"
The Auror on the outer edge of the camp had just enough time to swing his cloak around. A streak of light skimmed across it and blew a crater in the ground.
He blinked, stunned for half a second, then whipped his wand toward the direction of the incoming spells and shouted,
"Ambush! Ambush!"
He didn't need to say more. The others were already in motion. The moment they spotted the distinctive Death Eater robes on Snape, their expressions changed drastically.
Death Eaters? Here to rescue Pettigrew?
Snape was dumbfounded. Since when were Auror kits this upgraded?
His Disillusionment Charm shattered under the sudden counterfire, and a storm of spells came flying his way. Even he wouldn't dare take that head-on. He Apparated out of the blast radius immediately.
Tom winced.
The warning crystal. The anti-curse cloaks. All his inventions.
Once again, his own gadgets were making life miserable for Snape. Poor Head of House.
Watching Snape being chased in circles, Tom felt that familiar, inconvenient softness stir. He calmly finished a piece of chocolate for energy, took a sip of hot tea, and only then stepped forward.
The next moment, he appeared between Snape and the Aurors.
A heartbeat later, a terrifying wave of freezing power burst outward from him.
"Ice Domain."
.
.
.