The Mage's Path: Chapter 29

Hi all, 

Here’s the first chapter for the week. Harry has to rescue his friends from a troll, and he attends Peter Pettigrew’s trial.  

Chapter 29

Harry and Celeste crashed onto his four-poster bed, limbs tangled in the curtains. His lungs burned with each ragged breath as he struggled to untangle himself from the heavy velvet.

"That—" Harry gasped, finally freeing his arm, "—was too close."

"Did you see how she burned Grove?” Celeste asked. “Like he was made of paper."

Harry shuddered, the image seared into his memory. The white flames consumed his golem in seconds, reducing a solid wooden construct to ash before his eyes. Not even the Colossus' attacks had obliterated Grove so thoroughly.

"She was level seventy-six," Harry muttered, pushing himself upright. "Four times stronger than us, and she wasn't even trying. If Grove hadn't bought us those few seconds..."

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. His mind kept replaying their narrow escape—Lydia's chain wrapping around his ankle, the gate standing agonisingly out of reach, Grove's sacrifice giving him the crucial seconds needed to activate Gate Walker.

“According to the System, Lydia was classified as a Cherub,” Harry said. “But she didn’t seem like any angel I’d want to meet”

Celeste frowned. "I thought Cherubs were supposed to be chubby babies with tiny wings."

"So did I." Harry rubbed his ankle where the light chain had chafed it. "The name could mean a lot of different things. Instead of being an angel, she might be something entirely different."

"I like my origin story better.” Celeste giggled. “That one of her parents fornicated with a—”  

“Alright, I get the idea,” Harry interrupted. He stopped for a moment, thinking back on the confrontation. "Lydia was searching for information about where he went, which means she doesn't know what happened to him."

"If she's still searching for answers, she can't be all-powerful."

A notification popped up in Harry's HUD:

======Congratulations! You have completed the Main Quest: Hollow Memories. Rewards: 50,000 XP; 2 PP; Sub-Objective Completed: Find the counterspell for the Veil of Blood enchantment. Rewards: 1 PP. ======

Harry had obtained another massive influx of experience points. It would push him past level 20, marking a significant milestone in his development. More importantly, the additional path points meant he had more options when unlocking more skills. 

The level threshold excited him for another reason entirely—he could finally explore the Shadowlands dungeon on Potter Isle. There wasn’t much time left before the dungeon break.  

It wasn't only about safeguarding his island. With the discovery that his ancestors had escaped from the Shadow Realm and founded the Potter bloodline here, the dungeon held potential answers about his family's history and Celeste’s homeland.

Just as he was about to close the notification, another one appeared.

======New Main Quest: Hidden in Plain Sight 

Description: After discovering the truth about what happened the night his mother disappeared, the player needs a way to review the memory in greater detail. The memory shade offered a vivid but fleeting glimpse—too brief to extract crucial details. 

Main Objectives:

1. Discover a method capable of examining memories in detail.

2. Apply this method to the memory of that Halloween night.

3. Discover a clue that directs the player to a new route in locating Lily Potter.

4. Trigger the next main quest.

Rewards: 20,000 XP; 1 PP.

Time Limit: End of school year 

Difficulty: High ======

“Do you know a method of viewing memories?” Harry asked. 

“Nope,” Celeste replied. “Why don’t you ask Hermione?”

“Not the worst idea.”

He paused at the idea of continuing the quest if it meant facing Lydia again. Time remained on his side. The more urgent matter concerned a different quest altogether.

Harry accessed his inventory and pulled out his mother's journal. The answer to removing his scar lay within these pages.

"So, about that counterspell," Celeste said, peering at the journal. "Are you going to use it?"

Harry traced the lily embossed on the cover. "I don't know. Mum warned me to be certain I could handle whatever it conceals."

"What could be so bad she'd drain your magic to hide it?"

"I don’t know" Harry's stomach twisted into knots. "What if there's a reason the voice in the gate asked why my mother seemed familiar? What if we're not human?"

Celeste rolled her eyes. "You're overthinking this. Maybe she was hiding something simple, like a birthmark shaped like a duck."

"A birthmark shaped like a duck?" Harry snorted despite himself. "Really?"

"Hey, I've seen stranger things."

Harry tucked the journal back into his inventory. "I'll wait a bit longer. Whatever she hid, she did it to protect me. I should honour her caution."

"Your choice. But remember—"

Another notification appeared, interrupting her.

======New Side Quest: Halloween Rears Its Ugly Head

Description: A Mountain Troll has infiltrated Hogwarts and is currently on the first floor. Ron and Hermione are in grave danger and require immediate assistance. 

Objective: Save Ron and Hermione from the troll. 

Reward: 3,000 XP, 1 PP 

Time Limit: 10 minutes 

Difficulty: Moderate ======

Harry sprang to his feet. "Ron and Hermione are in danger!"

He bolted from the dormitory, taking the stairs three at a time. The common room stood empty, everyone still at the Halloween Feast. The Fat Lady's portrait swung wide as Harry barrelled through.

"Young man! Where are you—" The portrait's indignant cry faded as Harry sprinted down the corridor.

"Where are they?" Celeste asked, wings buzzing as she flew beside him.

"First floor!" Harry skidded around a corner, nearly colliding with a suit of armour. 

They raced down the marble staircase, Harry's boots slapping against the stone. Distant crashes echoed through the halls—splintering wood, shattering porcelain, and a guttural roar that sent ice through his veins.

A scream pierced the air—so unnaturally loud it made Harry's ears ring.

"Hermione!" Harry called, putting on another burst of speed.

They rounded the corner to find the bathroom door hanging from a single hinge. Water flooded out into the corridor, splashing beneath his boots as he skidded to a halt at the entrance.

The scene inside made his blood run cold.

Shattered stalls lay in splintered heaps, toilet water mixing with the broken remains of porcelain sinks. In the centre of the destruction stood a Mountain Troll—twelve feet of mottled grey flesh, its tiny head perched atop massive shoulders.

Hermione stood against the far wall, her face contorted with effort as an impossible sound erupted from her throat. The scream contained harmonics no human voice should produce, visibly distorting the air between her and the troll. The creature clutched its ears, green blood seeping between its stubby fingers as it sank to one knee.

Ron lay sprawled near the door, his wand pointed at the troll's massive wooden club. 

"Win-Wingardium Levi-Leviosa!" he stammered, his hand shaking so badly the spell fizzled before it could take effect.

Harry assessed the situation in an instant. Hermione's Cadence Mage ability had hurt the troll, but it wouldn't stop it. The creature's rage was visibly building, its bloodshot eyes narrowing as it fought through the pain. Ron's panic prevented him from casting effectively.

Harry raised his arm, focusing on the club lying beside the troll. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The wooden club rose smoothly, hovering ten feet above the troll's head. Hermione's scream faltered as she spotted Harry in the doorway. The troll, momentarily freed from the sonic assault, began to rise.

Harry slashed his arm downward. The club plummeted, connecting with the troll's skull with a sickening crack. The massive creature swayed once before crashing face-first into the flooded floor, sending waves of dirty water in all directions.

Silence descended, broken only by Hermione's ragged coughing.

Harry splashed across the bathroom to Hermione, who sagged against the wall, her throat red and swollen. "Are you alright?"

She nodded weakly, unable to speak.

"I couldn't do it," Ron mumbled, pushing himself to his feet. "The club was too heavy, or I panicked, or—"

"It's fine," Harry started, but thundering footsteps interrupted him.

Professor McGonagall burst into the bathroom, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell. Their expressions cycled from shock to horror as they took in the unconscious troll and three soaked first-years.

"What on earth were you thinking?" McGonagall's voice shook with barely controlled fury. Her eyes darted between them, nostrils flaring. "You could have been killed! Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Hermione tried to speak but only managed a painful-sounding rasp. She clutched her throat, eyes watering.

"It wasn't her fault, Professor." Ron stepped forward. "Some Slytherin girls locked her in here as a prank. I overheard them laughing about it in the Great Hall and came to help."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot upward. "And you, Mr Potter? Were you also gallantly rescuing Miss Granger?"

"No, Professor," Harry replied. "I didn't go to the feast at first because I wasn't in the mood to celebrate, but then I got hungry. When I reached the first floor, I heard Hermione screaming and rushed to investigate."

Quirrell whimpered as he glanced at the troll, while Snape's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously at Harry. 

"Well," McGonagall said, her voice softening slightly, "not many first-years could take on a full-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. Ten points each to Gryffindor for your courage and sheer dumb luck."

She turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you'll need to see Madam Pomfrey immediately. That ability of yours seems to have damaged your throat."

Hermione nodded weakly.

"Potter, Weasley, return to Gryffindor Tower. I will send some food up there. And," she added, her stern gaze returning, "I will investigate exactly who locked Miss Granger in this bathroom."

As they exited the flooded bathroom, a notification appeared:

======Congratulations! You have completed the Side Quest: Halloween Horror. Rewards: 3,000 XP; 1 PP. ======

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Snape whispering something to Quirrell, whose face had gone even paler. The Defence professor's eyes darted to Harry, then quickly away.

"Come on," Ron murmured, tugging at Harry's sleeve. "Let's get out of here before they change their minds about those points."

Harry and Ron made their way up the moving staircase, each absorbed in their thoughts. When they reached the fourth floor, Ron glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were alone.

"Did you see what Hermione did back there?" he asked. "That scream wasn't normal. Brought the troll to its knees."

Harry nodded, still processing what he'd witnessed. "Her voice physically hurt it. Made its ears bleed."

"I never knew she could do something like that." Ron shook his head, his expression darkening as he looked down at his hands. "Meanwhile, I was completely useless. Couldn't even cast a simple first-year spell when it mattered."

"It was a mountain troll, Ron," Harry said. "They're not exactly easy opponents, especially for first-year students who've only been learning magic for two months."

"But you managed the spell perfectly."

"You had the right idea, though," Harry countered. "Trolls are highly resistant to magic—using its club against it was brilliant. I only succeeded because I saw you trying it first."

Ron's shoulders straightened slightly. "You reckon?"

"Absolutely. If you hadn't shown me what to do, I might have tried something more dangerous." Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Between Hermione's voice attack and your strategy, I had the easy part."

"Suppose that's one way of looking at it." A hint of a smile tugged at Ron's lips before fading. "Hermione told me about her being a Cadence Mage. I never imagined she could use it to attack someone like that."

"Me neither," Harry said, thinking back to how the sound waves had visibly distorted the air. “She clearly hasn’t tapped into her full abilities yet."

Ron fiddled with a loose thread on his soaked sleeve. "How d'you think the troll got inside the castle? Hogwarts is supposed to be impenetrable."

"Good question. I noticed the professors arrived quickly after we dealt with the troll. Isn’t that suspicious?"

Ron gaped. "Do you think Professor McGonagall was involved?"

Harry punched his shoulder. "Don't be thick. I meant Quirrell and Snape."

"Oh." Ron's eyes widened as he processed the implication. "Blimey, you're right. Quirrell's the one who reported the troll in the first place, wasn't he? And Snape wasn't at the feast when the announcement was made.”

“He wasn’t?” Harry frowned. “That’s suspicious.” 

Ron nodded slowly. "I wouldn't put it past either of them. Quirrell's afraid of his own shadow, but maybe it's an act? And Snape... well, Snape's just Snape."

Harry was struck by Ron's perceptiveness once again. Without access to the System, Ron identified something Harry had only noticed initially through his unique advantages. The stuttering professor occasionally slipped, revealing glimpses of competence that contradicted his fearful persona. But would he have noticed if he wasn’t suspicious in the first place?

"There's also Trelawney," Harry said, recalling his earlier encounter with the Divination professor. "Why are there so many shady professors in this school?"

"Dunno. Maybe Dumbledore's gone senile?" Ron suggested with a shrug.

Harry snorted. "I doubt it's that simple.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry and Ron stepped into the Infirmary and tiptoed between the empty beds toward Hermione’s bed. They didn’t want to incur Madam Pomfrey’s wrath. Hermione looked up from the enormous leather-bound book balanced on her lap, her face breaking into a smile when she spotted them approaching.

"How's your throat?" Harry asked.

Hermione winced, her hand rising unconsciously to her neck where angry red marks still showed. 

"Madam Pomfrey says I've strained my vocal cords," she whispered, her voice rough and barely audible. "I won't be attending classes today."

Ron settled onto the visitor's chair. "That scream was brilliant. Never seen anything like it."

"It just happened," Hermione said. "When the troll cornered me, something inside snapped. I opened my mouth to scream, and I could see the air distorting in front of me.”

Harry leaned against the windowsill. “Professor McGonagall called it a voice ability. Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"Never," she whispered, wincing as she shook her head. "I can mimic voices perfectly, but turning sound into a weapon? That's entirely new territory."

"Reckon you could control it better with practice?" Ron mused.

"She already showed remarkable control, considering the circumstances," Harry pointed out. "The attack focused entirely on the troll without affecting you, Ron. But she does need a way to use it without damaging her throat."

Hermione reached for the glass of water beside her bed. After taking a careful sip, she said, "Madam Pomfrey suggested the same thing. We’re doing some research on Cadence Mages"

"What about strengthening your vocal cords?" Harry said. "There must be potions or exercises that could help."

"Pomfrey hasn’t heard of anything like that," Hermione replied. "That’s something else we’re researching."

“We could help you with the research,” Ron suggested, though his face betrayed his reluctance.  

Hermione smirked. She knew how much Ron hated the library.   

Harry's thoughts shifted to the troll incident. "Any ideas how the troll got into Hogwarts? This place is supposed to be impenetrable."

"Someone had to let it in," Ron said. "Trolls aren't clever enough to break through magical defences."

Hermione's throat was likely sore as she started writing messages. Professor Quirrell announced it. Coincidence?

"Suspicious timing," Harry agreed. “Though he isn’t the only suspect.” 

A notification appeared in Harry's HUD. He opened it discreetly and read it. 

======New Side Quest: Troll Investigation

Description: A mountain troll infiltrating Hogwarts suggests deliberate sabotage. Someone within the castle poses a threat to student safety and may have ulterior motives. Investigate the suspicious circumstances surrounding the Halloween incident. 

Objectives:

1. Determine how the troll entered Hogwarts.

2. Identify who was responsible for bringing the troll inside.

3. Capture the culprit.

Rewards: 10,000 XP; 1 PP 

Time Limit: End of term.

Difficulty: High======

"I think we should investigate," Harry said, dismissing the notification. 

Ron nodded eagerly. "Where should we start?"

"We need to determine where the troll entered," Harry said. “It may provide some additional clues.” 

Hermione scribbled frantically: Library research on castle defences. Check 'Hogwarts: A History' again.

"Typical," Ron muttered, though his tone lacked any real annoyance. "Always back to the books."

"I happen to like books as well," Harry told him. "You should try cracking one open occasionally."

"I do enough for schoolwork and not a page more."

Harry knocked on Ron's forehead with his knuckles. "No wonder it sounds so hollow in there."

"Oi!" Ron swatted his hand away.

Hermione smiled at their antics, but then her expression darkened. She hesitated before writing: McGonagall asked about the bullies. I didn't say who they were.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Those Slytherins should be punished."

Her quill scratched across the parchment: Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass.

Ron's ears reddened. "Bloody snakes. Can’t trust any of them."

"McGonagall should know," Harry insisted. "I'll tell her after Transfiguration today."

Hermione's eyes widened as she scribbled: No! Make it worse!

"She has a point," Ron said. "Slytherins don't take punishment well. They'll just find nastier ways to get back at her."

Harry's expression hardened. "Fine. If you don't want to report them officially, I understand. But they can't get away with it entirely."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Nothing dangerous," Harry assured her. "Just a reminder that actions have consequences."

The door creaked open as Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, carrying a steaming goblet. 

"That's quite enough excitement for my patient," she announced. "Miss Granger needs rest if she wants her voice back by tomorrow."

"We'll check on you after dinner," Harry promised, standing up.

Ron followed suit. "Harry will bring notes from today’s classes."

As they left the hospital wing, Ron glanced at Harry. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Just a little retribution,” Harry said. “Do you know where Fred and George are?”

Ron groaned. “You're kidding me.” 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, their dinner barely touched as they stole glances at the Slytherin table. The Great Hall buzzed with conversation, the students speculating about the troll incident.

"When do you think it'll happen?" Ron whispered, nudging Harry's arm.

Harry shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on three specific Slytherin girls. "Fred and George weren't exactly forthcoming with details."

"Wonder what they've cooked up," Ron mused, stabbing a potato with his fork. "Nothing too permanent, I hope."

"You're worried about it being permanent?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "After what they did to Hermione?"

Ron's face darkened. "Fair point."

Their waiting ended when a shrill scream erupted from the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson leapt to her feet, hands clutching at her hair as strands fell in clumps around her shoulders.

"What's happening?" she shrieked, her fingers trembling as more hair detached and drifted to the floor.

Beside her, Millicent and Daphne jumped up, their screams joining the cacophony as their hair began shedding too. The transformation didn't stop there. Their smooth skin bubbled and warped, noses expanding and ridging like miniature mountain trolls. Their ears stretched, growing pointed and leathery.

The Great Hall erupted in laughter. Even some Slytherins couldn't contain their amusement as the three girls' heads transformed into perfect troll replicas—complete with tiny horns and warts.

Harry and Ron howled with laughter, clutching their sides as the girls fled the hall, hands covering their grotesque faces. Harry caught Fred and George's eyes across the table and gave them a discreet thumbs-up. The twins responded with synchronised bows, their faces pictures of mock innocence.

"That was brilliant," Ron said, wiping away his tears.

Harry grinned, turning back to his dinner. "Justice served."

"Mr Potter. Mr Weasley."

The stern voice froze them mid-bite. Professor McGonagall stood behind them, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"A word, please. Outside."

They followed her from the Hall, their moment of triumph evaporating under her icy gaze. She led them to an empty classroom and gestured for them to sit.

"I assume you were responsible for what happened to those Slytherin girls?" McGonagall's tone left no room for denial.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances before nodding reluctantly.

"It appears you acquired the services of the Weasley twins to enact your revenge." She sighed, adjusting her spectacles. "I cannot condone such actions. Thirty points from Gryffindor. You should feel lucky I didn't give you detention."

"What?" Ron spluttered. "But Professor, those girls locked Hermione in the bathroom! She could have died!"

"I'm aware, Mr Weasley," McGonagall replied. "I will be speaking with them shortly. But tell me, isn't publicly humiliating them in the Great Hall simply another form of bullying?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Two wrongs do not make a right," she continued. "Remember that."

“But vengeance feels so good,” Harry muttered. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

McGonagall studied him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You may go. I suggest you consider more constructive ways to channel your protective instincts in the future."

They stood to leave, but Harry paused, remembering something important.

"Is there something else, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Do you know of a method to view memories, Professor?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow but didn't question why he was asking. "Yes. It's called a Pensieve. The Headmaster has one in his office."

"Do you think he would let me use it?"

She hesitated, as if weighing her response carefully. "He would let you, but I don't think he could help himself from viewing the memory himself. Once you place a memory inside, it's stored for anyone to see."

Harry frowned. The last thing he wanted was Dumbledore nosing into his business. The memory would raise questions he didn’t want to answer. "Do you know if I can purchase one somewhere?"

"They are rare," McGonagall said, "but if you have enough galleons and search long enough, you should be able to find one."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, following Ron out of the classroom.

A Pensieve would likely cost a small fortune. But with dungeons at his disposal, money wasn't a real obstacle. 

"What do you need a Pensieve for?" Ron asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"There are some memories I'd like to examine more closely," Harry replied vaguely.

"About your parents?"

Harry nodded, not wanting to elaborate further. The pensieve could wait until the Christmas holidays. He wanted to steer clear of Lydia as he focused on getting stronger. After their narrow escape, he recognised he needed more levels before risking another encounter.

During the Christmas break, he would have the perfect chance to visit Diagon Alley and try to find a pensieve. By then, he'd have completed more dungeons and gained enough levels to feel more confident. If Lydia returned to Godric's Hollow, he needed to be prepared.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry piled bacon onto his toast, creating a precarious tower that threatened to topple with each additional slice. The Great Hall hummed with weekend chatter, students revelling in their temporary freedom from classes. 

"Are you building a bacon fortress?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry's creation with appreciation.

Harry grinned. "More like a bacon mountain. Care to challenge me?"

"You're both disgusting," Hermione said. Her voice had returned to normal, though she still spoke carefully to avoid strain.

"It's called enjoying life, Hermione," Ron replied, already stacking his plate. "You should try it sometime."

Harry was about to respond when movement at the head table caught his attention. Dumbledore had risen from his ornate chair and was now making his way toward them.

"Harry," Dumbledore said as he reached their table. "Might I have a word with you?"

Harry lowered his toast. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all. I simply have some news you might find relevant." Dumbledore glanced around at the curious faces now watching their exchange. "Perhaps somewhere more private?"

Harry hesitated, looking at his friends.

"You may finish your breakfast first," Dumbledore added with a small smile. "I'll wait for you in the entrance hall."

After the Headmaster departed, Hermione leaned forward. "What do you think he wants?"

"No idea," Harry replied, though possibilities raced through his mind. Had Dumbledore discovered his excursions to Godric's Hollow? Or perhaps it concerned Pettigrew and Black?

He wolfed down the remainder of his breakfast, curiosity overriding his appetite for seconds. After promising his friends he'd fill them in later, Harry made his way to the entrance hall, where Dumbledore stood examining a suit of armour.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, turning at his approach. "Thank you for joining me. Peter Pettigrew's trial is scheduled for this afternoon."

Harry's eyes widened. "Today? That's sudden. What took so long in the first place?"

"Amelia has faced considerable obstacles arranging the trial," Dumbledore said. "The traditional families have been blocking it at every turn."

"Why?"

"I suspect Lucius Malfoy's influence."

"Any relation to Draco?"

"His father," Dumbledore confirmed. "A conviction for Peter leaves Lucius little room to achieve his aims, so he's rallied his allies to block the trial for as long as he can."

"Can he do that? And why bother?"

"Money opens many doors in the Ministry." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "As for his motivation, it concerns the Black inheritance. Without Sirius, Draco stands to inherit everything."

"I see," Harry said. "But isn't Sirius already free? Regardless of Peter's conviction?"

"Lucius plans several moves ahead," Dumbledore replied. "This is likely part of a larger scheme."

"Glad he failed then. Is he worse than his son?"

"Draco is merely a boy. He cannot compare to his father, who has committed numerous atrocities. He was a Death Eater—a supporter of Voldemort."

Harry's brows furrowed. "Why isn't he in prison?"

"As I said. Money opens doors."

Harry's jaw tightened as he processed this information. The implications troubled him deeply—a justice system where wealth determined outcomes rather than actual guilt or innocence. If someone could murder and torture yet walk free simply because they had enough gold, what was the point of laws at all?

"Why am I only hearing about the trial now?" Harry asked.

"Sirius specifically requested you not attend. He believes the proceedings may contain details traumatic for someone your age."

Harry bristled. "He doesn't even know me."

"Indeed, which is why I believed you should make this choice yourself." Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's. "You have every right to witness justice being served for your parents. However, Sirius isn't wrong—trials can be unpleasant affairs."

Harry mulled over this information, his stomach churning with conflicting emotions. Attending meant hearing painful details about his parents' betrayal—possibly things he wasn't prepared to face. Yet he'd already confronted much worse when learning about his mother's disappearance through the memory shade. After watching her being dragged through a dimensional gate by tentacles, how much worse could Pettigrew's testimony be? 

"How would I even get there?" Harry asked.

"I would escort you personally via the Floo Network directly to the Ministry." Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back. "We could return immediately afterward if you wished."

Harry weighed his options carefully. The opportunity to witness firsthand what happened that night—to see justice served—might never come again. Moreover, he could finally meet his godfather.

"I want to go," Harry said. "I need to be there."

Dumbledore nodded, seeming neither surprised nor disappointed. "Very well. The trial begins at two o'clock. Meet me at my office at one-thirty. The password is 'Sugar Quills.'"

"I'll be there," Harry promised.

Back in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione listened intently as Harry explained the situation.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "You're going to see Pettigrew's trial?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Are you sure that's wise, Harry? It could be quite distressing."

"I need to go," Harry insisted. "I deserve to hear the truth directly, not through newspaper accounts or secondhand stories."

Though concerned, his friends nodded their understanding.

The hours stretched like taffy as Harry waited for his meeting with Dumbledore. Celeste paced across his bedside table, her tiny form radiating nervous energy.

"You really want to do this?" she asked for the third time. "We could skip it and go dungeon diving instead."

Harry shook his head. "I need to be there."

"Fine, but I'm coming too," Celeste declared, folding her arms. "I'll hide in your pocket."

By quarter past one, Harry found himself ascending the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, Celeste nestled securely in his robe pocket. The Headmaster stood by his fireplace, dressed in formal plum robes.

"Are you certain about attending, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I am."

"Very well." Dumbledore handed him a terracotta pot filled with glittering green powder. "The journey may disorient you if you're unaccustomed to Floo travel. Speak clearly: 'Ministry of Magic, Main Atrium.'”

Harry tossed the powder into the flames, stepped forward, and called out his destination. The world dissolved into spinning fireplace after fireplace, his stomach lurching violently. Just when he thought he might be sick, he tumbled out onto polished dark wood flooring.

He staggered to his feet. The Ministry's Atrium stretched before him—vast and imposing with its peacock-blue ceiling inlaid with symbols. Ministry workers hurried past, barely sparing him a glance despite his ungraceful arrival. Moments later, Dumbledore stepped elegantly from the fireplace behind him.

Amelia approached them with purposeful strides. "Headmaster Dumbledore, Mr Potter." 

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore inclined his head. "I trust everything is prepared?"

"Indeed." Her sharp eyes assessed Harry with clinical precision. "Mr Potter, the accused will be questioned under Veritaserum—truth serum. The proceedings will likely reveal some disturbing details. Are you prepared for that?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Follow me closely. The press has got wind of your attendance, and they're circling like vultures."

Madam Bones led them through a series of security checkpoints where Harry's wand was examined and registered. They descended in a golden-grilled lift that announced floors in a cool female voice. Celeste remained hidden but occasionally whispered observations as they passed Ministry departments.

Inside the courtroom, wooden benches rose in tiers around a central chair where a small, balding man sat shackled. Even from a distance, Harry could see him trembling. Wizengamot members in identical plum robes filled the highest tiers, their expressions uniformly grim.

Harry's gaze swept the room until it locked onto a gaunt man with long black hair seated in the witness area. Though painfully thin, with hollow cheeks and dark shadows beneath his eyes, the man's gaze burned with fierce intensity. When those eyes found Harry, shock and dismay flashed across his face. Sirius Black—his godfather—hadn't expected to see him here.

"Daily Prophet's going to splash this across tomorrow's front page," Madam Bones said, gesturing toward several reporters frantically taking notes. "Particularly that one."

She nodded toward a blonde woman in magenta robes whose jewelled spectacles flashed as she spotted Harry. Her crimson lips curved into a predatory smile.

"Who's she?" Harry whispered.

"Rita Skeeter. Avoid her at all costs unless you fancy reading tomorrow’s headline on how you sobbed uncontrollably during the trial."

"I don’t sob."

"It doesn’t matter," Madam Bones said dryly.

As they took their seats in the visitor's gallery, a shabby-looking man with prematurely greying hair leaned toward Harry. His worn brown robes had been painstakingly mended, and scars crisscrossed his tired face.

"Hello, Harry," he said quietly. "I'm Remus Lupin. I was a friend of your parents."

Harry stared at him, momentarily speechless. Another connection to his past materialised just as the trial was about to begin.

Before Harry could respond to either of them, the courtroom doors sealed with an echoing thud. The Minister for Magic himself entered, followed by a procession of officials. Harry straightened his shoulders, preparing himself for whatever painful truths might emerge. At last, he would hear the full story of his parents' betrayal—directly from the man responsible.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry observes the trial and gets ready to enter the Shadowlands dungeon.

Thanks for reading.