It seemed that everything had changed, and yet nothing had. Sirius Black had been "captured," but the Dementors had not withdrawn from Hogsmeade, and the Ministry of Magic's wanted notice had not been revoked.
Sirius was still an escapee from Azkaban, but he no longer needed to run. Every day, he either ate and slept or slept and ate in the Twilight Cottage, occasionally staring at the Marauder's Map—this was his "prisoner" life.
His guards were no longer Dementors, but a traitorous cat and dog. If anyone saw two dogs and a cat chasing and playing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, there was no need to be surprised—that was Sirius's daily "exercise time."
Unlike Sirius, who was enjoying the treatment of a patient, Dumbledore and Lupin were both overwhelmed with work.
Dumbledore was constantly running between inside and outside the school; the headmaster's seat in the Great Hall was often empty. Gathering evidence from twelve years ago was no easy task.
The Ministry of Magic's records were hardly reliable. Back then, many people had been thrown into Azkaban without even a trial—Sirius included.
The information in those records held no real value, so Dumbledore could only seek out those who had participated in Sirius's capture, learning about the situation at the scene in order to reconstruct the truth and determine who had blown up half a street.
Lupin, who remained at the school, was just as busy. Not only did he have to teach and prepare lessons, but he also had to use his spare time to search every nook and cranny of the castle, preventing Peter Pettigrew from slipping through the cracks.
Fortunately, there had been no full moon recently, so Professor Lupin didn't have to worry about his furry little problem. He could confidently bathe in the moonlight and stroll through the castle under its glow.
As for Eda and the twins, they should have been free of worries. After all, they had already been cast aside by Dumbledore. Yet they didn't get a single day of leisure—in fact, they were even busier than before.
Gryffindor had fortunately made it into the Quidditch finals, which would be held on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. At most, there was only about a month left.
Determined to win the Quidditch Cup, Wood had once again begun his "devil training." He was either leading the team in practice or pulling them into meetings to discuss new tactics.
All of their spare time had been taken up by Wood. Fred and George now found it difficult even to tell jokes, let alone have the energy to play cat-and-mouse games.
Eda had it even worse. Before she could complain about why the twins hadn't knelt before the headmaster, she was dragged into Professor McGonagall's office.
There was no need to think about it—Dumbledore must have reported her, just to make sure she had no time or energy to wander around the school. She had only just escaped Snape's sea of suffering, only to fall right into Professor McGonagall's grasp.
McGonagall couldn't even be bothered to come up with new "charges." She directly reused the ones Snape had previously assigned to Eda—failure to fulfill her duties as a prefect and failure to capture the fugitive Black.
Not long ago, Eda had claimed that Sirius wouldn't be able to escape her grasp, but now she was being thoroughly proven wrong. It turned out she was the monkey that couldn't escape the Buddha's palm.
In the office on the 1st floor of the castle, a massive pile of academic papers and advanced Transfiguration theory was dumped in front of Eda.
If it were just reading through the text or understanding the content, it wouldn't have been too difficult for her. But McGonagall's requirement was to recite the entire thing—with feeling.
The key point: recite the whole thing! And with feeling. These were all academic papers and various laws—how was she supposed to recite that with emotion? It was truly frustrating—extremely frustrating…
As the saying goes, one thing restrains another. Dumbledore could pin Eda to the ground and thrash her, yet he couldn't truly control her. McGonagall might only be evenly matched with Eda, but she could keep Eda completely in check, leaving her with no room to resist.
In the blink of an eye, the Easter holidays arrived—but the break didn't give Eda any chance to relax. Looking at the mountain of homework piled up, she almost felt as if she were about to take the college entrance exams again.
The common room was filled with complaints. "Can this even be called a holiday? A festival?" Lee Jordan kept muttering this, and others echoed his sentiments.
It wasn't just Lee Jordan—after finishing all her homework, Eda felt like her right hand no longer belonged to her. It might have developed a mind of its own.
The prolonged high-pressure environment had pushed the students preparing for the wizarding exams to the brink of collapse. They wished their parents had given them an extra brain—or even another pair of hands.
Pep-up potions and intelligence-enhancing draughts quietly became popular among the students. If the wizarding world had something like "NZT," everyone would probably be carrying a bottle.
More and more students were reciting texts in the common room, all with a "don't leave, we'll battle until dawn" attitude. Yet the champion of late-night studying didn't belong to any fifth-, sixth-, or seventh-year student—third-year Hermione Granger took the crown.
Hermione was always the first to appear in the library to study and the last to leave the common room for the dormitory. In terms of diligence alone, even Eda had to admit defeat—there was no competing with her.
Every time Eda saw Hermione buried in her studies, she would sigh, "Ah, to be young," and occasionally add a slightly sour, "I used to be like that too when I was young."
During this time, even with the help of the Marauder's Map, Lupin and Sirius failed to capture Peter.
After all, Peter was also one of the map's creators. Even though he didn't know the map was now in Lupin's hands, he would certainly be cautious. And Hogwarts was vast, with countless places where a rat could hide.
Fortune also seemed to favor Peter. Several times, Lupin had already located him, but by the time the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor arrived, Peter had already slipped away.
The elusive Peter Pettigrew was always one step ahead of Lupin.
It was hard to say whether Peter was simply lucky or whether Lupin and Sirius were just unlucky—each time, they were just that little bit too late, which made it all the more frustrating.
On the day before Easter, perhaps worried that Hermione might collapse from overwork, Harry and Ron decided to take her outside for some fresh air. At the same time, they planned to deliver the prepared materials to Hagrid to help him handle the upcoming appeal.
In the small hut by the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was discussing Buckbeak's appeal with Harry and Ron. Meanwhile, Hermione was searching the cupboard for a milk jug, intending to help make tea.
While searching for the milk jug, Hermione accidentally knocked over another container. From the overturned jar, a rat slipped out with squeaks of alarm, its four short legs scrambling desperately as it tried to climb back inside.
This time, fortune did not disappoint—she had finally chosen the right side. The rat that slid out was none other than Peter. He was thinner than before, with much of his fur gone, exposing large patches of bald skin.
Justice, though delayed, had finally arrived. Despite faking his death and playing countless tricks, Peter had still been discovered. Ron, who knew nothing, was overjoyed, holding Peter in his hands as if he were a treasure.
The rat Peter had become writhed frantically in Ron's grip, struggling desperately to break free.
"Don't be afraid, Scabbers! There's no cat! Nothing here will hurt you," Ron soothed him gently. To be honest, Ron had never been this gentle even with Hermione.
The three of them walked up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was slowly setting, the sky turning a clear grayish purple, though a streak of ruby-red light still lingered in the west.
The closer they got to the castle, the more restless Peter became, squealing wildly, thrashing about, even trying to bite Ron's hand. Yet Ron, oblivious, continued trying to calm the agitated rat.
Suddenly, a ginger cat sprang out, its large yellow eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.
"Crookshanks!" Hermione sighed. "Stop it, go away, Crookshanks! Go on!"
But the cat kept getting closer, and behind Crookshanks followed the pale-colored Garlon.
Peter struggled desperately and bit Ron hard. In pain, Ron loosened his grip just a little, and Peter instantly slipped through his fingers, dropping to the ground and darting away.
Crookshanks and Garlon leapt after him, chasing relentlessly. Working together, the cat and dog drove Peter toward the Whomping Willow.
Ron had barely had time to enjoy the joy of his beloved pet returning from the dead before it was in mortal danger again. In a panic, he immediately chased after them, disappearing into the night.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance and ran after him.
In the darkness, Harry thought he saw the large black dog again—the Grim that had been called an omen of death in Divination class.
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