Chapter 113: Omen

Butterbeer is a rich hot drink made by boiling beer and adding butter and caramel to balance its bitterness, while the malt's fragrant aroma still blooms on the tongue, overpowering the butter's heaviness.

The moment the hot drink touched his lips, even though Harry had been tormented by long-standing grudges, the warmth of the alcohol, Mrs. Rosmerta's graceful figure, and Ron's chatter about Honeydukes' harvest instantly soothed him—he felt for the first time that his trip to Hogsmeade had brought him the expected good mood.

When they returned to the castle, the Great Hall had already been decorated for the Halloween feast: piles of jack-o'-lanterns filled the space, clouds writhed wildly, numerous burning orange ribbons hung from the walls, and two lazy, gliding long-horned water snakes drifted across the ceiling.

"A perfect day—from Hogsmeade to the feast," Ron said as he cut his food, fully expressing his joy.

"Indeed, especially since we learned so much about old history," Harry thought, deciding not to reveal Sirius's shameful crimes just yet.

After the ghostly entertainment concluded the feast, the children wandered back to their dorms, but they stopped before Gryffindor Tower—the entire eighth-floor corridor was packed with students.

The portrait of the Fat Lady had been torn open, and she was gone.

The professors pushed through the crowd to the dorm door, and Dumbledore examined the damaged portrait.

"We must find her," Dumbledore said. "Professor McGonagall, go at once and fetch Filch—have him search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You're lucky!" came a cackling voice.

It was Peeves, soaring gleefully above the crowd—whenever someone was in trouble or distressed, he always acted this way.

"What have you got against us, Peeves?" Dumbledore said calmly, and Peeves's grin stiffened slightly. He dared not insult Dumbledore, so he switched to a slick, oily tone—no better than his cackling.

"You should be ashamed, sir—you hold a position of leadership yet failed to see. She was terrified, fled through the courtyard to the fourth floor, darting between the trees, crying out about something dreadful," he chirped happily, "poor thing."

"Who is she talking about?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Oh yes, Professor Head," Peeves said, hovering midair as if cradling a giant bomb. "As you can see, when she wouldn't let him pass, he got furious." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore through his legs. "With that temper, it's clearly Sirius Black."

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindor students back to the Great Hall; ten minutes later, students from the other houses arrived, thoroughly confused.

"Teachers and I will conduct a full search of the school," Dumbledore closed all doors leading to the Great Hall. "I'm concerned for your safety—tonight, you'll sleep here. I'll assign teachers to guard the entrance, and I require the Prefects to help maintain order. Any disturbance must be reported to me immediately."

He gave Percy special instructions, making Percy feel immensely proud and important.

Dumbledore used Transfiguration to conjure enough sleeping bags for all the students, then shut the door.

A buzz of excitement rose through the hall; Gryffindor students were telling the others what had happened.

"Everyone into your sleeping bags!" Percy shouted. "Move now, no talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Harry and Ron each took a sleeping bag when a girl approached them—Harry took a few seconds to recall: it was Lavender, the one whose rabbit had died.

"Ron," she whispered anxiously, "do you think Black is still in the castle?"

"Maybe," Ron said. "After all, Dumbledore thinks so too."

"But," Lavender began—others nearby were asking the same question—"how did he get in?"

"Maybe he used a secret passage," Harry replied, knowing Hogwarts must have secret passages.

"Well, honestly, did we even get to properly enjoy Halloween?" Lavender said, frowning.

"First year, a troll; second year, the Chamber; third year, Black," she counted on her fingers, unconsciously leaning closer to Ron. "I'm terrified."

"There's nothing to fear," Hermione cut in sharply. "The castle has protective enchantments—no outsider can sneak in unseen; every entrance has Dementors, including those to secret passages; even if Black could fly, he'd be noticed immediately."

"Black must've tricked the Dementors somehow," Harry said. "He used that trick to escape Azkaban, and the Ministry never realized it."

"So the Dementors don't affect Black at all," Lavender whispered, nearly shrinking into Ron's arms.

"Lights out!" Percy shouted. "Everyone stay in your sleeping bags—no talking!"

Percy had successfully rescued Ron, Harry thought—he could clearly see Hermione and Lavender exchanging uneasy glares.

The next day, Harry found the portrait replaced by Sir Cadogan, who constantly challenged students to duels and changed the password twice daily, making students groan—but perhaps it was safer than before, and crucially, no other portrait dared guard Gryffindor Tower anymore.

After finally passing Sir Cadogan, Harry returned to his dorm and checked—nothing was missing. Black had broken in but gained nothing.

"Harry," Neville said, staring at him seriously—Harry knew he was about to lecture him again on the Chosen One's duties.

"I need your help," Neville said. "Hermione's hiding something, but she's been avoiding me lately."

"What secret could she have?" Harry said dismissively. "Probably just some study trick to boost her grades."

"Don't you find it strange? She's taking every class, and their schedules overlap completely," Neville said. "I suspect she's using a duplication spell… it's important to me."

"If she doesn't want to tell, don't ask," Harry shook his head. "I don't want to pry into someone's privacy—but if you insist…"

He paused. "I'll try to convince Hermione to talk to you."

Early Monday morning, before Muggle Studies began, Harry and Ron tried to persuade Hermione not to keep avoiding Neville—that whatever was troubling her, she could speak up. Hermione seemed somewhat moved.

For the rest of the week, Harry couldn't pay attention to them at all—because from the moment Muggle Studies ended, Professor Dodo began shadowing Harry everywhere. At first he made excuses, then he stopped pretending entirely—and even other teachers and students agreed it was necessary.

"You must understand, Harry," he said gravely, "on Halloween night, Buckbeak was severely injured."

"What?" Harry had no idea who Buckbeak was.

"Hagrid's hippogriff—a dangerously magical creature that brought down a MiG-29," Professor Dodo warned dramatically. "Now you understand—Black's brutality exceeds our imagination."

"Guess we're feeding worms again," Harry thought, disappointed—Hagrid must've planned to introduce this big friend.

Still, Hagrid was determined to introduce some big friends. Without Buckbeak, he successfully brought in Aragog. The children who had complained the lesson wasn't exciting enough were terrified by the giant spider, crying that they wanted to care for the Thestrals instead.

"Look here," Hagrid gesticulated wildly, "isn't he also fluffy?"

"Fluffy," Aragog raised his hairy pincers, clicking in agreement.

Though spiders weren't as likable as other animals, Harry was glad to see Aragog growing gentler. Hagrid quietly told Harry that Aragog's remaining time was short—he'd do his best to spend his final days with him.

At noon, Wood told him they'd be playing Slytherin this Saturday and needed to practice hard.

As they practiced in the evening, Professor Dodo sat on the stands wearing a fan's hat, munching popcorn. With a professor alone on the empty stands, Black wouldn't be foolish enough to walk into a trap—but even scaring him off was good, Harry thought; they needed to practice well.

After several days under Professor Dodo's watch, Harry grew used to him. But on Thursday night, as Harry returned to his dorm, Neville proposed going together to uncover Hermione's secret class schedule.

Harry instinctively opened his wardrobe to fetch the Invisibility Cloak—then saw Professor Dodo standing inside, and he immediately shouted, "Hilarious!"

"Relax, Harry," Professor Dodo stepped out. "I was just checking if Black was hiding in here."

"Looks like he isn't," Harry said diplomatically.

"Your judgment is accurate," he said, then crawled under the bed to check. Only after inspecting every possible hiding spot did he allow Harry to sleep.

After Professor Dodo left, Harry handed the Invisibility Cloak to Neville and sat on the bed.

"You go—I won't come," he said. "I'm worried Dodo might come back to check again."