Chapter 510: Walking Through Dreams for Five Hours

The open fields had become a distant past; the hills were gradually revealing their true form.

Sirius could hear distinct snarls behind him, each one making his legs go weak.

A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind:

What were those black dogs? Why did he instinctively feel he must not resist them?

And why did they insist on hunting him down?

Finally, where was he running to? Where were James and Lily?

Confusion drowned Sirius, and with it came the endless black dogs, shadowing his every step.

Sirius stepped onto the hill’s grass, and a mass of black mist spread behind him—if he had eyes on his back, he would have seen these misty blobs drifting straight from his own body.

“Sirius, what right do you have to face anyone?”

A hoarse voice rose behind him, sounding like accusation and sorrow intertwined.

The voice made Sirius involuntarily freeze in place.

In that moment, his feet felt as if filled with lead.

He could not help but recall that night.

James, Harry’s father, his brother, the only son of the Potters who treated him like a son…

Because of his mistake, his arrogance, his foolish actions, he was brutally murdered.

How could he not force himself to find out what happened that night?

When Wormtail betrayed James and Lily’s location to Voldemort, Voldemort found them in their cottage.

The scene of Harry’s parents’ deaths was not hard to imagine.

And how could he not imagine it?

He imagined how Voldemort first killed Harry’s father.

How James fought desperately, shouting for his wife to flee with Harry…

How Voldemort advanced on Lily Potter, ordering her to step aside—he would kill Harry…

How she begged Voldemort to kill her instead, not to touch her son—she protected her child even in death… So Voldemort killed her too, then turned his wand on Harry…

“Sirius, what right do you have?”

Sirius clutched his face in agony, tears streaming down.

“What you fear controls you, Mr. Black.”

A child’s voice came from behind Sirius; he suddenly felt his body loosen, and he returned to reality.

He heard a roar right beside him, foul stench flooding his senses—he looked up and saw a massive mouth stretched beside his face.

The black dog had opened its jaws wide enough to swallow a man, yet it froze, as if stuck on a fishbone.

Sirius broke into a cold sweat, trembling as he searched for his god.

Without effort, he found it—standing atop the dog’s head, watching him with emerald-green, regal eyes.

Sirius swore he had never seen such a majestic cat—it looked like a giant, expanded version of the mystical magical beast, the leopard cat.

The giant cat’s paw struck down; the black dog let out a pained whimper, then dissolved into wisps of black mist, lingering like ghosts around them.

“Fear never vanishes, Mr. Black—it lives forever in every heart.”

“But even those burdened by fear can still run.”

The giant cat shrank like a deflated balloon, finally becoming no larger than a housecat.

“What exactly are they…”

Sirius asked, trembling, his throat dry.

“We’ll discuss that next time, Mr. Black—we don’t have much time.”

The black cat stared at the rising mist around it; it knew it had overused the Empty Talisman’s power and interfered too deeply with the Boundary’s rules.

Everything has a price—the cost of Sirius’s fear and hesitation was expulsion from the dream.

Had he not been the cat’s guest, he would have vanished like Voldemort’s soul fragment.

As for the effect of soul disappearance in reality, one may refer to the Killing Curse.

Hmm… yet this is also strange—the Killing Curse directly kills a wizard’s soul, which is why it leaves no physical wound.

But how can a wizard killed by the Killing Curse return to the Boundary?

Unless… the Killing Curse does not kill the soul—it lacks such power. It merely expels, driving the soul from the wizard’s body.

Here is evidence: Harry’s Resurrection Stone can summon the souls of his parents and Cedric.

“What does that mean?”

Sirius asked urgently, staring at the black cat with a look of despair and desperate longing.

“Your steps are too heavy. Those who walk in dreams must tread lightly.”

“If you cannot shed something, you will never reach far.”

The black cat sighed,

“Farewell, Mr. Black. When you are ready to face the future instead of living in yesterday, come find me again…”

“Oh—and at Hogwarts.”

The mist grew thicker than ever before, accompanied by a searing heat.

The Boundary seemed to punish the wizard who broke its rules—it could not punish the cat licking its paws, so it punished Sirius.

Sirius felt only heat, unbearable heat—his skin burned, yet his heart turned icy.

That voice was right—what right did he have to face James and Lily?

Unless… he remembered the infant—within his mind, the image of the baby always outlasted the face that resembled James.

“If we win, revered god, I will return.”

Sirius looked as if he had reclaimed something—his face set in terrifying resolve.

He looked at his god—the cat stared blankly at its own paw, whiskers twitching slightly, as if surprised its paw had instinctively stuck to its whiskers.

It was too amusing—even Sirius couldn’t help but squint slightly.

“I have many guests,”

the black cat said solemnly, pressing its tail over its paws,

“If one day I encounter a wandering soul-guest rather than a wizard, I will Making Guide them out of the dream.”

The black cat finished speaking, ignored Sirius’s one-second stunned silence followed by wild joy, and walked into the depths of the mist.

When Sirius awoke from the hazy illusion, staring at the box still playing its hypnotic music, he suddenly spoke:

“Lord of Dreams and Mist, Bridge Between Life and Death, Symbol of Eternal Fortune—”

He murmured, like a devout believer.

And his god, at that moment, frowned:

“Five hours and thirty minutes… Too long. Why?”