Harry crouched on the stairs, his heart pounding as he waited for the Dementors to swarm in. He'd been gutted when he realized his Time-Turner mishap had only hurled him back three days—not far enough to rewrite everything. But on reflection, it wasn't a total loss. He could track Peter Pettigrew's escape route, uncover his hideout, and finally avenge his parents.
Days of stealthy surveillance had yielded nothing but frustration. "It won't be long now," Harry muttered to himself. "The Dementors will charge Hogwarts to nab Sirius. That's when I'll see exactly how Peter slips away—and where he bolts to."
His eyes locked on the cluster of figures shuffling below. Then a fierce gust roared down from the castle's upper levels, ripping his Invisibility Cloak free. The fabric billowed like a ghost, whipping upward toward the towers.
Harry's face drained of color. He bolted up the stairs without a backward glance. That cloak was his only shield; without it, he'd be exposed before he could blink. Forget tailing Peter—he'd be caught flat-footed.
High in the tower, Argus pocketed his wand, ending the gust he'd conjured. Spotting Harry's frantic dash, he melted into the shadows. "Harry's the perfect decoy," he thought. "With me lurking, the Dementors won't dare come straight at him. They'll circle wide, slipping cold through the cracks, then pour in via windows and roofs. Just like the original timeline."
Gasping, Harry crested the tower and snatched his cloak from where it had snagged. He sagged against the wall, mopping sweat from his brow, oblivious to the creeping chill in the air.
"Peter!" The name jolted him upright. He couldn't waste time catching his breath—what if the rat slipped away again?
He staggered to his feet, but a bone-deep cold seized him. Glancing skyward, he saw them: a horde of Dementors hurtling toward the castle like a storm of shadows.
"Damn it, the Dementors!" Panic surged anew. He'd barely relaxed before bolting again, cloak pulled tight. To evade his past self's notice, he skipped the Patronus Charm, weaving silently toward the tower's base.
Only when Harry vanished did Argus step from hiding, locking eyes on the airborne horde. The Dementors faltered at his gaze, veering off their direct assault. Sirius's scent lingered too strongly inside, though. After uneasy loops, they bypassed Argus, gliding through lower windows and the rooftop.
Meanwhile, in the unaltered timeline, Harry trudged toward the headmaster's office with Lupin and the others. A sudden chill prickled the air.
"Professor Lupin, you feel that? It's getting colder," Harry said.
Before Lupin could respond, the other Argus—perched in the tower—sensed the shift. He looked up sharply. Dementors were breaching the windows!
"Dementors! They're invading the castle!" his voice echoed.
The tower Argus exhaled in relief. "If we bag Peter, this loop's a win."
He cloaked himself in an illusion, turning to descend—only for a figure to materialize before him. Dumbledore.
Argus's mind reeled. Why here, now? In the original story, Dumbledore arrived after the Dementors entered, missing cloaked Harry. But Argus? He was a sitting duck.
He thanked his stars he'd switched to a disguising cloak earlier. Dumbledore's piercing gaze would shred a lesser illusion in seconds. No chance for excuses—Dumbledore would end him on the spot, no questions asked.
"No wonder he was late before," Argus thought grimly. "I drew them in myself."
He couldn't slack off. This was the magical world's top wizard, enraged and at full throttle. No Philosopher's Stone, no Elder Wand—just wits and misdirection to hide his identity. Escaping meant going all out.
"Who are you, and why bring these horrors here?" Dumbledore's face was a mask of calm, his voice steady. Supreme power bred unshakable poise.
Argus braced for a blind-side curse, deepening his voice to a gravelly rasp. "Why? Hah! For my master, of course. You're slipping, Dumbledore—too old for this game."
"The Dark Lord returns soon. And you? Reducto!"
He struck first, cutting off Dumbledore's probe. His Reducto was middling—system-rated level four at best. Dumbledore flicked it aside with effortless disdain.
Argus spun and vaulted from the tower's edge. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Elite wizards turned the Levitation Charm into flight, but Argus lacked the finesse. He wobbled wildly, steering clumsily toward Hogwarts' borders.
"Faster!" he urged himself. "Past the grounds, and I can Apparate!"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in faint surprise at the improvised escape. Most knew Wingardium Leviosa, but aerial mastery demanded iron control and deep arcane knowledge. Few pulled it off—fewer still unknowns like this intruder.
As Argus teetered toward freedom, Dumbledore unleashed Expelliarmus. Unsteady midair, Argus shattered his levitation, plummeting to dodge—then recast it, hurtling onward.
Dumbledore murmured the charm, rising smoothly in pursuit. His speed dwarfed Argus's, closing the gap relentlessly.
Argus clenched his jaw, pushing harder. But Dumbledore loomed larger. "This is trouble. He'll nab me any second!"
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