The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Harry slipped out of bed, careful not to wake the others in the dormitory. The castle was still and quiet, the way it only was on early weekend mornings. As he got dressed, he pulled out the crumpled note from the inside of his robes and read it again.
"Harry, midnight. Gryffindor common room. Don't be late. — Padfoot."
Just reading the name brought warmth to his chest. Sirius. He folded the parchment carefully and tucked it away. That would come later. He had another errand to run first.
Today was Sunday. No classes. And the perfect day to slip away unnoticed.
He found Neville in the common room, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jumper, already dressed and waiting, though clearly anxious.
"You're sure about this?" Neville asked immediately, rising to his feet.
"As sure as I was last night." Harry smiled. "If we leave now, we'll be back before lunch. No one will notice."
Neville looked around the empty common room. "It's just… I've never done anything like this before. Gran would ground me until graduation if she found out."
Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine. We'll be quick. And when you get your new wand, you'll finally have the tool that suits you."
They pulled on their dark traveling cloaks and lowered the hoods over their heads. With a final glance around, Harry tapped the Marauder's Map and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The map revealed itself, its ink crawling across the parchment like veins of lightning. Satisfied the corridors were clear, Harry led Neville out of Gryffindor Tower, down the long staircase, through the third floor, and to the statue of the one-eyed witch.
"Here we are," Harry whispered, tapping the statue with his wand. "Dissendium."
The hump slid open, revealing the secret passage. The earthy scent of damp stone rose from below.
Neville peered into the darkness. "And this really goes to Hogsmeade?"
"All the way into the Honeydukes cellar. Just don't trip," Harry grinned.
They slid inside one after the other, and the tunnel closed behind them.
The passage was long and winding, lit only by the glow of Harry's wand. Neville muttered every few minutes, partly in wonder, partly in fear. His footsteps echoed against the narrow stone walls.
"I never thought I'd do something like this," he mumbled. "Gran always said I needed to keep my head down. Not get into trouble."
Harry gave him a sideways glance. "Neville, sometimes trouble finds you whether you like it or not. Better to be prepared. And right now, that wand of yours is holding you back."
After a half hour of cautious walking, they reached the trapdoor to Honeydukes. Harry lifted it slightly, checked that the shop above was quiet, then waved Neville up.
They emerged into the sweet-scented cellar, weaving through crates of Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs. Slipping out the back door, they stepped into the cool, bustling morning of Hogsmeade.
The sleepy village of Hogsmeade was just beginning to wake. A few shopkeepers were opening shutters and sweeping their steps. The Three Broomsticks had just lit its hearth, and the scent of fresh bread floated from the bakery.
"Here," Harry said, steering Neville toward a small wooden building nestled between the post office and Zonko's. A faded sign above the door read: Hogsmeade Public Floo.
Inside, the station was cozy and quiet. A plump witch sat behind the desk, sipping a mug of tea and reading Witch Weekly. She barely looked up when Harry approached.
"Floo travel?" she asked, voice still thick with morning fatigue.
"Yes," Harry said, keeping his hood low. "To Diagon Alley."
The woman reached under the counter and handed them a small pot of Floo powder and pointed toward the fireplace. "One at a time. Speak clearly."
Neville hesitated. "You sure this is safe?"
"Perfectly," Harry said. "Just step in, throw the powder, and say 'Diagon Alley' as clearly as you can."
Neville stepped into the large hearth, clutched a pinch of powder, and threw it down. "Diagon Alley!" he called—and vanished in a swirl of green flames.
Harry followed immediately, flames rushing up around him as he shouted the same destination.
They landed one after the other at the main Floo station in Diagon Alley, tucked behind the Leaky Cauldron. Neville stumbled a little as he emerged, brushing soot from his robes.
"That was weird," Neville said, blinking.
Harry grinned. "You get used to it."
The alley was calm in the early morning. Most shops were only just opening. The cobblestones glistened slightly with dew, and the windows of the shops gleamed with polished glass and colorful displays.
As they walked through the alley, Neville looked around in wonder.
"I've only ever been here with Gran," he said. "Never like this… just walking around freely."
Harry chuckled. "Then let's make the most of it. Come on, Ollivanders should be open."
Ollivanders was open early. The shop, as always, was dim and filled with dust motes drifting in the light from high windows. Towers of wand boxes surrounded them like ancient monuments.
The bell chimed softly as they stepped inside.
"I was wondering when you'd return," came the soft, eerie voice of Mr. Ollivander as he emerged from behind a column of boxes. His silver eyes sparkled faintly. "Mr. Longbottom, I believe?"
Neville nodded, clutching his old wand tightly. "Y-yes, sir. This wand belonged to my father. But Harry said… he thinks I need a new one."
Mr. Ollivander's expression became serious. He held out a bony hand.
"Let me see it."
Neville placed the wand gently in Ollivander's palm.
"Cherry wood. Unicorn hair. Ten and a quarter inches. This wand served your father well in the last war…" Ollivander murmured. "But it was never yours. It chose him."
He turned to Harry, eyes glimmering. "Mr. Potter… your intuition serves you again."
Ollivander gestured for Neville to follow, and soon they were surrounded by stacks of wand boxes. Box after box came down. Neville tried wand after wand. Some fizzled. One spat smoke. Another sparked bright blue before bursting in his hand, causing him to jump back with a yelp.
Harry stood nearby, arms crossed, patient.
Then Ollivander drew out a slim, reddish-brown box from near the back of the room.
"Try this," he said, placing the wand in Neville's hand.
The moment Neville touched it, a soft warmth pulsed through his fingers. A golden shimmer danced from the tip.
Neville gasped. "I—I can feel it. Like it's… alive."
"A fine match," Ollivander said with satisfaction. "Maple wood. Unicorn hair core. Twelve inches. Loyal, but bold."
Harry smiled. "Perfect."
They paid for the wand—Harry slipping the Galleons from his own pouch before Neville could protest—and left the shop as the sun climbed higher into the sky.
Neville was practically bouncing as they walked.
"I can't believe it! That wand felt like it knew me."
Harry chuckled. "That's how it's supposed to feel."
As they walked past a bakery, Neville turned suddenly serious. "Harry… thank you. For bringing me. For… for giving me a chance."
Harry clapped him on the back. "You earned it, Neville. You're stronger than you think. That wand's just the beginning."
They retraced their steps back to Hogsmeade, slipping into Honeydukes without a soul noticing, and returned to Hogwarts just before noon. As they emerged into the empty corridor behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, Neville turned to Harry.
"Do you think… things will be different now?"
Harry nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "They already are."
As they climbed the stairs back toward Gryffindor Tower, Harry's thoughts shifted again—to Sirius.
Midnight was coming.
And it was time to hear what Padfoot had to say.
By the time they made it back to the Gryffindor common room, the sun was already high in the sky, casting a golden hue through the tall arched windows. Students lounged about with books and sweets, some finishing homework, others chatting lazily about the upcoming tournament. Nobody gave Harry and Neville a second glance.
It turned out that no one had noticed their absence.
Except one.
Hermione Granger, ever vigilant, was sitting by the fireplace with a book perched on her knee. The moment she spotted them, her eyes narrowed and she stood up, arms crossed.
"Where have you two been all morning?" she demanded, her voice low but unmistakably sharp.
Harry raised an eyebrow and motioned for Neville to take the lead.
Neville cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Er—we went to Diagon Alley."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "You what?"
"We used the Floo Network from Hogsmeade," Harry added, calmly. "Public station. Early morning. No one saw us."
Hermione looked between them, utterly scandalized. "You could've been expelled! What if a professor saw you sneaking off? What if the Floo Network registered an unauthorized use? What if—"
"Hermione, relax," Harry said, holding up a hand. "We weren't caught. And besides—this was important."
Neville, who had been quietly clutching the wand box like a treasure chest, stepped forward and opened it.
Hermione's eyes softened. "Is that a new wand?"
Neville nodded proudly. "It's mine. Ollivander himself said it chose me."
Hermione took a deep breath, visibly battling between indignation and curiosity. Curiosity won. "Well, don't just stand there. Let's test it."
She cleared a space in the corner of the common room, away from the other students. Neville, beaming with the kind of pride Harry had never seen on him before, stood straight with the wand in his hand.
"Try something simple," Hermione instructed. "A Lumos."
Neville took a breath and lifted the wand. "Lumos!"
The tip flared immediately with bright light—stronger than any he'd ever produced before. He looked at it with open-mouthed wonder.
"Brilliant!" Hermione said, delighted.
Encouraged, Neville tried again. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
A nearby cushion lifted cleanly into the air with no stutter or wobble. He guided it around Hermione's head and gently set it back down, eyes shining.
Harry, watching from a nearby armchair, smiled. Neville was practically glowing.
"Do another," Hermione urged.
"Expelliarmus!" Neville cast, pointing at Hermione's wand.
The spell struck true—Hermione's wand slipped from her fingers and flew into the air before she caught it with a laugh.
"Oh, Merlin," Neville muttered. "It's like the spells are flowing. Like I don't have to wrestle them anymore."
Hermione beamed. "It's your wand, Neville. It's attuned to your magic. That's how it's supposed to feel."
They continued practicing in the corner—Hermione offering tips, Neville eagerly casting one spell after another. Other students gave the two an occasional glance, but nobody interfered.
Harry sat back in his chair by the fireplace, resting his elbows on his knees and watching the flames dance.
He was waiting.
The Floo grate had been cleaned that morning by the house-elves, and Harry had subtly checked it twice for signs of tampering. Just to be sure. The last thing he needed was someone else interrupting.
It was almost evening now. The golden light from the windows had mellowed into the rich amber of twilight. Most students were heading to dinner in the Great Hall, but Harry had made up an excuse to stay behind.
Then it happened.
A soft whoosh and swirl of green fire erupted in the hearth.
Harry's head snapped up as the flames flared higher—and then, through the emerald glow, the unmistakable shape of Sirius Black's face appeared, floating in the center of the blaze.
"Harry," Sirius said, eyes bright with a wild sort of energy.
Harry immediately dropped to his knees before the fire. "Padfoot."
"Good, you're alone," Sirius said, glancing behind him quickly. "We don't have much time. I can only hold this connection for a few minutes. How are you?"
Harry smirked. "Surviving. Things have been… complicated."
"I saw the Prophet," Sirius growled. "Rita Skeeter's a menace. I'll have words with her soon."
"You'll have to get in line behind Hermione," Harry said dryly.
Sirius chuckled. "Glad to see she's still sharp. But listen—what you did, standing up to the Ministry, not playing their game… I'm proud of you."
Something flickered in Harry's chest. Pride. Relief. Connection.
"I'm not doing this for attention, Sirius. I just want control of my life."
"I know, pup. That's what worries them most. A Potter who can think for himself."
Harry looked over his shoulder. Hermione and Neville were still absorbed in practice, oblivious.
But before he could speak again, Sirius's form flickered.
"I have to go," Sirius said quickly. "But… Harry. Stay strong. Trust yourself."
And with a final flash of green light, the fireplace was empty again.
Harry remained kneeling for a few seconds longer, staring at the empty hearth.