The rain hadn't stopped. It pelted the rooftops of Hogsmeade and whispered against the windows of the Shrieking Shack, where Cael stood with wand in hand, levitating the unconscious black dog. A fine mist clung to his cloak as he stepped outside, the faint silhouette of Hogwarts Castle emerging in the distance through the gray morning haze.
The Dementors had retreated for now, withdrawing to the edge of the Forbidden Forest like shadows waiting for dusk. Cael took the main path toward the castle gates, careful to keep the dog floating behind him at shoulder height. Despite the hour, light had begun to stir within the great stone walls ahead.
The gates creaked open at his approach. Luck was with him—it was morning, after all, and though the rain blurred the horizon, the worst of the night had passed.
As he stepped into the castle, shoes soaked and cloak dripping, a voice cut across the corridor.
"What are you doing out this early?" a Prefect called, narrowing his eyes.
Cael turned, already rehearsing his excuse. "Just out for some fresh air," he said casually, brushing a strand of wet hair from his forehead. "Now that the night is over, I thought I'd take a walk. Didn't know fresh air was against the rules."
The Prefect's eyes shifted to the levitating dog.
"What's that?" he asked sharply. "You can't bring a dog inside the castle. That's clearly against school rules."
Cael gave a small shrug. "Professor McGonagall needed a dog for a Transfiguration demonstration today. She asked me to find one. I figured this one would do."
The Prefect raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face. "Really? That sounds like a load of— Fine. Let's go. We'll confirm that with the Professor. Right now."
Cael didn't flinch. "After you," he said, gesturing politely.
They climbed the stairs, the dog still suspended in midair like a floating shadow. Several curious portraits peered at them as they passed. A few muttered among themselves, but said nothing aloud.
When they reached Professor McGonagall's office, the Prefect rapped sharply on the door.
"Come in," came a groggy voice from within.
They entered.
The sight before them made Cael nearly chuckle aloud. Professor McGonagall stood in her tartan dressing gown, a long sleeping cap slanted atop her graying hair, and an unmistakable air of having been roused too early. She was still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
She blinked, looking from Cael to the floating dog, then to the Prefect.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"Professor," the Prefect began, "this student claims he brought this dog at your request—for a lesson. But he was outside the castle grounds this morning, which is suspicious, and I thought it best to—"
McGonagall raised a hand to silence him, her sharp eyes now on Cael.
"Well?" she said. "Explain yourself, Mr. Vale."
"I need to speak with you in private, Professor," Cael said calmly. "This dog… there's something wrong with it."
McGonagall studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well. You may go," she said to the Prefect.
The Prefect hesitated. "But—"
"I said go," McGonagall repeated more firmly.
With a wary glance at Cael, the Prefect turned on his heel and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
McGonagall's expression shifted. "Now, Mr. Vale, would you care to tell me why you lied to a Prefect, used my name without permission, and wandered beyond the castle grounds in this weather?"
Cael gave a small bow of apology and pointed to the levitating dog.
"Professor… can you cast the Revelio Animagus charm on him? I have reason to believe this isn't just a dog."
Her eyebrows lifted. "You think this is an Animagus?"
"Yes, Professor."
With a flick of her wand, she cast the revealing charm. There was a flash of pale light—and before them, the dog shifted. Its body contorted, elongated—and in the space of a breath, a man collapsed to the ground, still fast asleep.
McGonagall gasped.
"Sirius Black…"
She stumbled back a step, one hand raised as if in disbelief. The sight of the notorious fugitive, the man who'd escaped Azkaban, was enough to drive the sleep from her eyes.
Before Cael could speak again, McGonagall raised her wand and muttered a freezing charm. Sirius's unconscious form was bound instantly, unmoving.
"Follow me," she said, voice tight. "This matter is grave. We must inform the Headmaster."
As she began to levitate Sirius's body once more, Cael stepped forward.
"Professor," he said quickly, "shouldn't we cover him? If someone sees…"
McGonagall paused, blinking. "Ah. Right. That slipped my mind."
She waved her wand, conjuring a thick white drape of enchanted cotton. It floated over Sirius's body, concealing him entirely beneath layers of fabric. Then they both turned and made their way toward Dumbledore's office.
When they arrived at the stone gargoyle, McGonagall muttered the password. The staircase spiraled upward, revealing the familiar wooden door.
Inside, Albus Dumbledore was already awake, sitting in his high-backed chair, sipping tea and nibbling on a treacle tart. His half-moon spectacles were perched on his nose, and his eyes twinkled with mischief—until they landed on the two visitors.
"Oh, Minerva," he said, smiling. "I wasn't expecting a delivery from Madam Malkin's this morning. What's this—"
"It's serious, Albus," she interrupted sharply.
At once, the twinkle vanished from Dumbledore's eyes.
"What is it?" he asked, standing.
Without a word, McGonagall banished the drape with a flick of her wand.
Sirius Black lay bound and unconscious on the carpeted floor.
Dumbledore's face changed. For a moment, his age seemed to catch up with him—his features hardened, and his gaze grew distant.
"Sirius," he said quietly. "Is he asleep?"
"Yes," Cael answered. "I gave him a sleeping tonic."
Dumbledore turned to him. "And how, Mr. Vale, did you come across him?"
"I was out walking early this morning. Near the forest's edge. I saw a man. He changed into a dog when the Dementors drew close. That's when I got suspicious. I followed him, subdued him, and brought him back."
McGonagall rounded on him. "You what? That was reckless, Mr. Vale! That man is a war criminal—a servant of the Dark Lord! You could have been killed! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"
"Sorry, Professor," Cael muttered sheepishly. "It won't happen again."
A nearby enchanted quill scribbled on its own: It absolutely will.
Dumbledore, however, continued to gaze at Sirius's still form.
"Minerva," he said slowly, "send for Severus. Ask him to bring a stimulant. We need to wake our old friend."
McGonagall stiffened. "Severus? Is that wise? You know what will happen when he sees him."
"I believe the time for avoidance has passed. And not just Severus. Summon Remus. And James, if he's is awake in this morning ."
McGonagall hesitated. "Shouldn't we notify the Ministry?"
"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "Not yet. Not until we speak with him."
She pressed her lips together, then nodded. "Very well."
She turned to Cael. "You're fortunate this was important, Mr. Vale. I should be assigning you detention."
But as she made for the door, Dumbledore raised a hand.
"Let Mr. Vale stay. He's involved now. He deserves to hear the truth."
McGonagall halted in place, shooting Dumbledore a look of protest.
"He's a child, Albus. This doesn't concern him."
Dumbledore met her gaze with quiet gravity. "Black is his uncle. Whatever happens next, he has a right to be part of it."
She sighed, defeated. "Very well."
Then she left, the door closing softly behind her.
Cael looked down at the man who'd once been a loyal Marauder, a godfather, a traitor—or perhaps something else entirely. The truth was coming. And he was ready to hear it.