The sky over Hogwarts was streaked with silver moonlight, sharp and pale against the winter dark. The air carried a restless chill, the kind that whispered of something about to break.
Snape stood at his office window, gaze fixed on the horizon. He had prepared for this night meticulously—earlier than before, earlier than memory had demanded. His second chance was a blade, and he meant to wield it.
On his desk lay a series of vials: Wolfsbane, binding draughts, and a thin flask of Draught of Shadowstep—rare, dangerous, but necessary. He tucked them into his robes with the same precision he'd once reserved for a duel.
This time, Sirius Black would not escape his grasp.
---
The Gryffindor Common Room
Harry was restless. He'd overheard the teachers whispering again, words like "security" and "Hogsmeade patrols" slinking through half-closed doors. Something was happening, and no one was telling him.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice drew his attention. She sat across from him, her expression tinged with concern. "You've been staring at that window for ten minutes."
He blinked. "Do you hear it?"
Ron looked up from his chessboard, confused. "Hear what?"
Harry hesitated. "The castle. It's like it's… waiting."
Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Ron. "Harry, you've barely slept. Maybe—"
Before she could finish, the portrait door creaked open. Draco Malfoy stepped in.
Instantly, the common room buzzed with murmurs—Slytherins weren't supposed to be here.
"What are you doing here?" Ron barked.
Draco ignored him. His eyes locked on Harry. "We need to talk."
---
An Empty Corridor
Minutes later, Harry followed Draco down a deserted hallway, his heart pounding.
"This better be good," Harry muttered.
Draco spun, his expression sharp. "Something's happening tonight. I don't know what exactly, but Snape's been—different. He's been watching the towers, the forest… and Black's been seen near the village."
Harry froze. "Black?"
Draco nodded. "If he's here, Potter, you're in the middle of it whether you like it or not."
Harry clenched his fists. "Then we stop him."
Draco scoffed. "You're unbelievable."
"You came to me," Harry shot back.
Draco's mouth opened, then closed. He didn't argue. "Just… don't be stupid. If Snape catches you out there—"
"I'm not afraid of him."
Draco smirked faintly. "You should be."
---
Snape's Path
Snape moved through the castle like a shadow, his steps silent against the stone. He had already traced Black's likely route—through the grounds, skirting the Whomping Willow.
"Not this time," he murmured to himself.
He passed by the Astronomy Tower's stairs and paused, sensing movement. Below, faint voices—Potter's among them.
Of course.
Jaw tight, Snape swept his cloak behind him and descended after them. If Potter followed the same path as before, he'd be walking straight toward the forest's edge. Toward Black. Toward Pettigrew.
This was the fracture point. He could feel it.
---
The Forest Edge
Harry gripped his wand tighter as the trees loomed ahead. Beside him, Draco walked stiffly, glancing around with a mixture of irritation and unease.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Draco muttered.
"Then leave," Harry said flatly.
Draco shot him a look but didn't slow down. "Not a chance."
The wind howled through the branches, carrying with it a low, almost animal growl. Both boys froze.
"Tell me you heard that," Draco whispered.
Harry's reply was cut off by a sudden rustle in the shadows ahead—then a figure emerged.
Ragged. Wild-eyed. Sirius Black.
Harry's breath hitched. His hand tightened on his wand.
And then, behind them, a voice like a whip cracked through the air:
"Potter!"
Snape.