The Great Hall of Hogwarts had transformed into an impromptu dormitory. Gone were the long house tables; in their place, rows of mattresses blanketed the stone floor, divided into neat sections for each college. Deans patrolled tirelessly, their eyes scanning the shadows, while professors and Aurors from the Ministry combed through the castle and Hogsmeade for any sign of Sirius Black.
"Grade heads, organize your students—older years on the perimeter, younger ones closer to the center," Argus instructed. "We prioritize the little ones' safety."
"Yes, sir!" the prefects echoed.
Argus positioned himself at the Slytherin spot nearest the doors, the most exposed vantage. From the staff dais, Professor McGonagall watched with a flicker of respect. A true head of house led from the front in times of peril—quintessential Gryffindor valor. She sighed inwardly; if only the Sorting Hat had placed him in her house, her burdens would lighten considerably.
Half an hour later, the enchanted candles snuffed out, cloaking the hall in darkness. The initial thrill of a communal sleepover faded among the huddled students, who clutched their quilts and drifted off.
Deep into the night, Filch shuffled in with a lantern, his voice a rasp. "Astronomy Tower and Owlery clear, Headmaster. Nothing."
Snape followed, his expression sour. "Fourth floor done. Cellars too—no trace of Black."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "No other hideouts in the castle?"
"Too many students about today," he replied heavily. "He could slip in amid the chaos."
"He's a slippery one," Snape sneered. "Escaping Azkaban, nearly breaching Hogwarts solo. Impressive, in a twisted way."
Dumbledore halted mid-stride. "Severus, what if he's already in Hogsmeade, poised to infiltrate?"
Snape's lip curled. "How? Unseen?"
"With that cunning mind, anything's possible. Azkaban's toll should have broken him, yet here he is." Snape pondered, then shook his head. Glancing up, he added, "You recall my reservations about your new hire before term started?"
The implication hung heavy: Lupin aiding Sirius. But with ears everywhere, names stayed unspoken.
Dumbledore cut in firmly. "No professor would abet Black's entry—nor facilitate it reaching the castle. Hogwarts remains secure. Soon, everyone returns to their dorms."
"And Potter?" Snape pressed. "Warn him?"
"Let the boy rest. We'll address it later."
Unbeknownst to them, Harry lay twitching beneath the floor-level conversation, his dreams stirred by fragments of overheard words.
In the original tale, Lupin would have woven tales of James and Lily by now, earning Harry's trust and curiosity. Here, the train rescue of Sirius and rush to Hogsmeade had delayed deeper bonds. Still, their chats offered Harry solace—he wasn't utterly alone in the wizarding world.
Two weeks slipped by. Sirius, sensing the net tightening, hunkered in the Shrieking Shack, scarcely stirring. Dementor traces kept him from even shifting to dog form. Searches yielded nothing; professors and Aurors relented, resuming normalcy.
Lupin seized the quiet to share more about Harry's parents, fleshing out their images in his mind. Their reliance on the Defense professor grew.
Argus held off on nabbing Peter Pettigrew. The rat's value extended beyond trading Black heirlooms for Sirius's loyalty or Voldemort's revival. Played right, he'd vault Allen's Ministry clout sky-high. The Barty Crouch affair had already secured deputy director status; one more push, and the acolytes would embed deep in British wizardry.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Defense Against the Dark Arts class lacked Lupin's warmth; Snape strode in, face like thunder. With a flick of his wand, windows sealed and curtains drew, claiming the room as his potions domain.
"Books to page 394," he snapped.
Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe fumbled for their Potions texts, but Argus halted them. Amid confused stares, he directed them to the proper Defense textbook.
He knew the full moon loomed—Lupin's transformation night, followed by exhaustion. Snape's Wolfsbane Potion preserved his mind but not the change itself. Ever dutiful, Lupin skipped class to avoid risk; even Dumbledore couldn't shield him from harming a pupil.
Murmurs rippled, but Snape's icy glare silenced them. All flipped pages obediently—except Harry.
"Professor, where's Professor Lupin?" he challenged.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Mind your own, Potter. He's... indisposed. For now."
"Page 394!"
The lesson's topic drew gasps. "Werewolves? We haven't covered that!"
"Yeah, just Red Caps and Hinkypunks. Weeks away!"
"Quiet!" Snape barreled on. "Who can distinguish a werewolf from an Animagus?"