Chapter 186 Capturing Peter Pettigrew
It was the weekend again.
Peter Pettigrew seemed to have evaporated from Hogwarts.
There was no news from the Owls, House-elves, Centaurs, or Acromantulas.
Charlie sat in the common room, tapping his fingers on the armrest.
He had used every method available and searched every possible place, but Pettigrew was nowhere to be found.
"Is there anywhere I haven't considered?"
Charlie frowned. This was actually possible; after all, Hogwarts was ancient, and perhaps an unknown Chamber of Secrets or secret passage lay hidden within.
If that were the case, it would take even longer to catch Peter Pettigrew.
However, Charlie could afford to wait; he didn't believe Peter could avoid showing his face forever.
In the morning, an Owl landed in front of Charlie, delivering a letter.
"Charlie, fancy coming over to my Hut for a chat? – Hagrid"
Charlie, having nothing else to do, decided to go and see.
Outside Hagrid's Hut, Buckbeak was napping on the ground, wings folded, occasionally twitching.
Ever since Hagrid brought an Acromantula to class once, students' acceptance of Buckbeak instantly soared.
Compared to those terrifying spiders, Buckbeak was practically as cute as a several-hundred-kilogram bird.
Moreover, no one dared to cause trouble in Hagrid's class, fearing that Hagrid's little pet might take their lives.
Even Professor McGonagall thought Buckbeak was quite good in class.
Upon seeing Charlie, Buckbeak immediately lowered his head, his four limbs on the ground, wings pressed close to his body, showing his reverence.
Charlie paid no attention, raising his hand to knock on the door.
"Come in!" Hagrid's voice came from inside.
The Hut was warm, and the fire in the fireplace was burning brightly.
Hagrid fumbled to serve a dessert and black tea, the teacup as large as a soup bowl.
Charlie took a sip of tea but didn't touch the dessert. He knew Hagrid's taste; the fellow could mix rock cakes and blue cheese and still think it tasted good.
Don't believe him if he says it's delicious; listen to him if he says it's bad.
Hagrid sat opposite, his rough fingers rubbing the rim of the teacup, looking like he wanted to speak but hesitated.
"Just say it if you have something to say," Charlie put down his teacup.
"Uh, well…" Hagrid cleared his throat.
"Charlie, I want to ask you a favor."
"Speak."
"Could you talk to the Centaurs and ask them to give a lesson to the students?" Hagrid spoke quickly.
Charlie raised an eyebrow:
"Centaurs are very proud. Do you think they'd be willing to be gawked at like Buckbeak?"
"No, no!" Hagrid quickly waved his hands.
"I don't want them to be exhibits; I want to invite them to be assistant teachers, to help me complete the lessons. Of course, when necessary, they'd need to introduce their own race and culture."
"Why don't you go yourself?"
Hagrid scratched his messy beard:
"They might not be willing to interact with Wizards… but they should listen to you."
Charlie was silent for a moment.
Hagrid had provided Norbert with food for so long, always without complaint. He could help with this favor.
"Alright, I'll go ask," Charlie stood up.
"Really?" Hagrid's eyes lit up.
"That's great! I knew you'd help!"
"Don't get too happy too soon; the Centaurs might not agree."
"No problem, no problem, just go and talk to them!" Hagrid's beard trembled with his smile.
Hagrid then speared a piece of dessert and stuffed it into his mouth. He took a bite, his expression suddenly stiffening as he looked down at the cake in his hand.
There was a large hole in the middle of the cake, with fine tooth marks around the edge.
"Damn it!" Hagrid looked annoyed.
"It seems like I've had a mouse in the house recently; it keeps stealing my food. Look, I was planning to save this cake for tonight."
Charlie's mouth twitched; good thing he hadn't eaten his dessert.
Hagrid continued to complain:
"This mouse is also incredibly cunning; the several mousetraps I set were useless. It doesn't come out during the day, only at night when I'm asleep. The night before last, it even stole half of my pickled fish."
Charlie's heart suddenly stirred.
Could this mouse be Peter Pettigrew?
Owls couldn't scout inside Hagrid's Hut, House-elves wouldn't leave the Castle, and Centaurs and Acromantulas were active in the Forbidden Forest.
So Hagrid's Hut had never been checked from start to finish!
He had been oblivious, overlooking this place.
"Hagrid, have you seen that mouse?" Charlie put down his teacup, his tone calm.
"No," Hagrid scratched his head.
"But it must be quite large; an ordinary mouse couldn't eat this much cake."
Charlie stood up, his gaze sweeping over every corner of the Hut.
"Do you mind if I look for that mouse?"
"Of course not!" Hagrid's eyes lit up.
"It would be great if you could catch it. This fellow has been ruining my food quite badly."
Charlie took out his wand and waved it gently.
Several old tin cans, a wooden barrel, and some scraps of cloth on the floor instantly twisted and deformed, transforming into five cats of various fur colors in the blink of an eye.
After landing, these cats shook themselves and immediately scattered, darting into every corner of the Hut.
"Merlin's beard!" Hagrid's eyes lit up, and he clapped Charlie on the shoulder.
"That's brilliant!"
He suddenly remembered something, turned, and kicked Fang, who was lying nearby:
"You useless thing! I've kept you for so long, and you can't even catch a mouse!"
Fang staggered from the kick, whimpering twice in complaint.
I'm a dog, for crying out loud! Haven't you heard of a dog being nosy by catching mice?
Charlie stood still, his gaze sweeping over every corner of the room.
The cats moved nimbly, darting under the bed, behind cabinets, beside the fireplace, not even missing the cracks in the corners of the walls.
Hagrid rubbed his hands, nervously watching the cats' movements.
Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from under the bed, followed by a sharp squeak from a mouse and a low meow from a cat.
"Caught it!" Hagrid shouted excitedly.
A gray mouse darted out from under the bed, moving incredibly fast, frantically fleeing along the base of the wall. Behind it were two cats, their claws scratching the floor with a harsh sound.
Charlie raised his hand.
The mouse seemed to be caught by an invisible hand, its limbs flailing as it flew towards Charlie.
It struggled desperately, letting out a piercing shriek, its tail flicking rapidly.
Charlie pinched the scruff of the mouse's neck, bringing it to his eye.
It was a rather large gray mouse, with dull fur, covered in dust and food scraps.
One toe on its right front paw was missing, leaving a bald scar.
Charlie stared at the mouse, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Long time no see, Scabbers."
"Or rather, hello, Peter Pettigrew."
Chapter 187 Snape Tracking
Inside Hagrid's Hut, Scabbers, whose scruff was pinched by Charlie, frantically twisted its body, aiming its sharp incisors at Charlie's fingers.
Charlie exerted a little force with his fingers.
"Squeak—"
Scabbers let out a mournful shriek, and the entire rat instantly went limp, its limbs dangling weakly, with only a faint rise and fall remaining in its chest.
"Charlie, you..." Hagrid watched the scene, a look of distress on his face.
"Even though it stole my food, you don't need to treat it so cruelly, do you? Why don't you let it go?"
Charlie glanced at Hagrid:
"This rat carries germs, and normal rats don't grow this big. I need to take it back for special disposal, or all the food in your Hut will have to be thrown away."
"Germs?" Hagrid's face changed, and he instinctively took half a step back.
"That's terrible! I even ate cake that it nibbled on a few days ago!"
"So, have you felt unwell recently?" Charlie asked casually.
Hagrid paused, thinking carefully: "My throat does feel a bit itchy, actually."
That's because you ate too many rock cakes and got thirsty... But Charlie didn't say it aloud.
"That settles it." Charlie lifted the rat and turned to walk out.
"I will deal with it cleanly. Pay close attention to your physical condition these next few days, and if you have any problems, go find Madam Pomfrey."
"Alright, alright, alright!" Hagrid nodded repeatedly, his gaze towards Scabbers now tinged with alertness.
"Thank you, Charlie. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have known this rat was so dangerous."
Charlie pushed open the door, and Buckbeak immediately raised its head, looking warily at the rat in his hand.
"Don't move." Charlie said calmly.
Buckbeak obediently lay back down on the ground.
Charlie did not head toward the Castle; instead, he walked straight toward the Whomping Willow... Snape was just about to go to the Whomping Willow to get some willow branches, which were needed for a new Potion recipe.
Before he got close, a figure that looked inherently sneaky (Snape's unique filter) entered his line of sight.
Charlie White?
What was he doing going to the Whomping Willow?
Snape stopped, his gloomy gaze locked onto Charlie in the distance.
He watched as Charlie caused the Whomping Willow to go limp, and then entered the hole beneath the Whomping Willow.
A dusty memory, mixed with humiliation and fear, instantly flooded his mind.
It was Sirius Black who had tricked him into going to the Shrieking Shack back then, where he was almost killed by Lupin, who had transformed into a Werewolf.
Although James arrived and saved him, if they hadn't maliciously pranked him, he wouldn't have nearly been bitten to death by Lupin.
Snape's breathing suddenly grew heavier, and his chest tightened.
It was happening again! Another arrogant fool who ignored school rules!
He determined that Charlie intended to use that secret passage to sneak into Hogsmeade Village.
Snape smiled grimly.
Charlie White, now I've caught you red-handed. Let's see how I punish you.
Snape cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself; his figure immediately merged with the surroundings, and he silently followed, preparing to catch him in the act...
Charlie passed through the damp tunnel and stepped into the Shrieking Shack.
A large Black dog suddenly turned its head, watching the doorway warily.
Seeing that the person was Charlie, the Black dog's tense body relaxed, and its tail wagged slightly twice.
Its gaze fell upon the grey rat in Charlie's hand, and it instantly froze.
The next second, the Black dog let out a low growl, thrusting its limbs, and its form twisted and changed in mid-air. Bones cracked, Black fur retracted into the skin, and its limbs stretched into a human shape.
Sirius Black landed barefoot, his gaunt body swaying before he finally stood firm.
But his eyes now burst forth with astonishing light, fixed intently on the rat in Charlie's hand.
"Peter..." Black's voice was hoarse, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
"Peter!"
Scabbers, who had been playing dead, suddenly began to struggle wildly, kicking his limbs and letting out sharp wails.
He desperately twisted his body, trying to break free from Charlie's grasp.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak—"
Black only had eyes for the rat; he lunged forward, reaching out to grab him.
Charlie took a step back.
The smell emanating from Black was overwhelmingly pungent, like mixing stinky socks, spoiled food, and moldy straw, left to ferment in a dark corner for three days.
"Give him to me!" Black was so desperate his voice cracked.
"Quickly, give him to me!"
He lunged forward again, his fingers trembling slightly from exertion.
Charlie glanced at him and loosened his grip.
Scabbers flew toward Black in an arc.
Black reached out to catch him, but perhaps due to being weak for too long, he failed to hold on, and Scabbers fell to the ground with a thud.
The moment Scabbers landed, he bolted toward the door.
"No—" Black stumbled, trying to chase him, tripping over his feet and nearly falling down.
Charlie raised his hand and waved it.
A thick hemp rope appeared out of thin air, accurately wrapping around Scabbers and binding him tightly in place.
The rat struggled frantically, but the rope tightened further, leaving him only able to emit faint squeaks.
Black was stunned for a moment, then turned to look at Charlie.
"Thank you." His voice was raspy when he said this, and his eyes were slightly red-rimmed.
Just as Black was about to lunge toward Peter again, the door behind him was suddenly pushed open.
"Mr. White." Snape's voice came from the doorway, cold as if freshly retrieved from a dungeon.
"Leaving school grounds without permission and consorting with a wanted criminal. It seems Azkabanis your only destination."
He stood in the doorway, his Black robes dusted with traces of dirt, clearly having followed them all the way here.
His Black eyes stared at Charlie, cold as a winter lake, but a hint of imperceptible disappointment flashed in their depths.
Snape had originally thought Charlie just wanted to sneak into Hogsmeade, which would only merit detention and give him some satisfaction.
But now, Charlie was standing with Black.
Did that mean he also had ties to the Dark Lord?
Before Charlie could speak, Black exclaimed in surprise:
"Snape? What are you doing here?"
Snape sneered.
"Compared to me, you're the one who shouldn't be here. I am the Potion Class Professor!"
"You actually managed to become a Professor at Hogwarts? It truly makes one worry about what your students are learning."
"That is no longer your concern." Snape drew his wand, his voice laced with long-suppressed hatred.
"The Dementor's Kiss awaits you. I have long awaited this day, to take revenge upon you, you scoundrel."
His fingers gripped his wand tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white.
Charlie stood aside, feeling puzzled.
What exactly did Sirius do to Snape? The hatred was practically spilling out.
Black frowned, the muscles in his face twitching slightly due to excitement.
"Snape, you don't understand what happened at all." His voice was hoarse, yet it carried stubborn insistence.
"Just kill that rat on the floor first, and you can dispose of me however you like."
Snape sneered.
"Don't change the subject."
Chapter 188 Peter Pettigrew, Died
He flicked his wand, pointing its tip directly at Charlie.
A hint of gravity flashed in his dark eyes, and his arm was held rigidly straight, clearly masking his inner unease.
That kid Charlie was incredibly wicked; if they really fought, he had no confidence at all.
"Charlie, it's best to cooperate honestly now," Snape's voice was very low.
"Don't make things worse."
Charlie sighed.
"Professor Snape, calm down," He spread his hands, indicating he had no ill intent.
"Black isn't the real criminal; Peter Pettigrew is. That rat on the floor, that's Peter."
The air solidified for two seconds.
Then Snape let out a sneer, a sneer of complete disbelief.
"What a creative excuse," A sarcastic arch formed on his lips.
"A rat is Peter Pettigrew? Charlie, when did you learn to tell stories from Lockhart?"
He paused, his tone growing colder.
"Peter died twelve years ago, with only one finger left. I've seen this rat before; it's that ugly thing the weasley family's Troll keeps."
Snape's chin was slightly raised as he spoke, his dark eyes full of coldness.
"Stop making things up. Come with me to see Dumbledore. Now."
Charlie scratched his head, feeling a bit helpless.
How could this person be so unyielding?
He was about to transform Peter back into human form, to let the facts speak for themselves, when Black suddenly erupted.
"Don't you want to know who really killed Lily?!"
Black's voice was almost a roar, shaking the entire room. His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging, and his whole body was trembling.
"Don't you want to avenge Lily, Snape! He's the one who betrayed the Potter family! It's Peter!"
Snape's face changed dramatically.
His wand trembled slightly but quickly steadied.
"Shut up."
His voice was terrifyingly low, each word squeezed out through gritted teeth.
"You don't deserve to say Lily's name!"
Charlie's spirits lifted.
Something was off, a big secret!
Lily was Harry's mother, did she have a relationship with Snape?
He glanced at the struggling rat on the floor; anyway, that guy couldn't escape.
Gossip was paramount!
He'd slow down for now, let them talk more.
Black was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently.
"I know you hate me, and you hate Potter, he stole Lily from you."
"But do you want to watch the person who truly killed Lily escape justice?!"
"You shut up!!"
Snape, as if an old wound had been reopened, glared at Sirius.
Charlie, like a civet cat in a melon field, his eyes gleaming, 'There's more to this story?'
"I'm telling the truth," Sirius stared intently at Snape, his voice filled with despair.
"James and Lily made me their Secret Keeper, but we changed it at the last minute, to Peter. Everyone thought I was the Secret Keeper, including You-Know-Who."
He raised a trembling hand and pointed at the rat on the floor.
"But Peter was the real Secret Keeper. He was the one who betrayed the Potter family's location, he was the one who killed James and Lily!"
Snape's face was grim, staring at Peter on the floor.
Peter, still in rat form, was trembling.
Black took a step forward, his eyes red-rimmed.
"When I caught up to Peter, that coward shouted in the street that I had betrayed James and Lily, then blew up the entire street, cut off his own finger, and turned into a rat and ran away."
"Everyone thought he was dead, thought I killed him. But he's been alive all this time, hiding in the weasley family's house!"
Snape stared intently at Black, countless emotions flashing in his dark eyes—shock, doubt, anger, pain—finally all turning to ice.
"Proof," His voice was hoarse.
"How do you prove it?"
Black pointed at the rat on the floor.
"Turn him back! Then you'll know!"
Seeing that there was no more gossip to be had for now, Charlie slowly walked towards the rat bound with rope.
There was a specific Spell to forcibly revert an Animagus.
Charlie walked in front of the rat and gently waved his wand.
The rat on the floor began to tremble violently, its fur receding inch by inch, its limbs elongating, its body swelling. Bones cracked continuously, making one's scalp tingle.
In less than ten seconds, a short man appeared on the floor.
He was very short, not even 1.6 meters tall, with a sparse, bald head, and a few wisps of gray hair plastered limply to his scalp.
His skin was loose and sagging, like an empty skin left after a fat person had rapidly lost weight.
His right hand was missing a finger, the scar at the break already white.
He was huddled in a ball, his eyes darting around, constantly glancing at the door.
"Hello, Peter," Sirius's voice was squeezed out through gritted teeth, a savage grin on his face.
"Long time no see."
The moment he saw Peter, he paradoxically became less urgent.
Peter was trembling all over, trying to retreat, but he was tightly bound by the rope.
Snape stared at the man on the floor, his chest heaving violently.
It was him.
It really was him.
Peter's appearance now proved that what Sirius said was true.
The person who truly killed Lily was Peter.
A surging hatred welled up in his heart, and the veins on the back of Snape's wand-holding hand bulged.
"S-Snape--" Peter's voice was high and thin, with a whimper.
"Don't believe his nonsense! He's the real informant!"
He desperately tried to inch towards the door, like a maggot.
"No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, and he could do it. Besides him defecting to You-Know-Who, and You-Know-Who teaching him, what other reason could there be?"
"Are you talking about Lord Voldemort?" Black sneered.
Peter stiffened all over, trembling even more violently.
"Afraid to hear the old master's name?" Black slowly approached, his footsteps echoing in the empty room.
"That's understandable. In Azkaban, I heard Lord Voldemort's followers all believed you betrayed him, which led to him being killed by Harry that night."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter shrieked.
"I didn't betray Potter."
"Shut up!"
Snape's voice rang out, terrifyingly cold.
His wand slowly rose, his dark eyes utterly devoid of life.
Peter still wanted to say something, but the three people present had no interest in hearing his excuses.
Sirius had already lunged, his hands tightly gripping Peter's neck.
"Die! Die!" Black's eyes were bloodshot, his fingernails digging into Peter's flesh.
Peter struggled desperately, making gurgling sounds, his face turning crimson.
Just then, an invisible ripple flashed.
"Sectumsempra."
Snape coldly uttered the Spell.
An invisible blade sliced through the air.
A deep bloody gash instantly appeared on Peter's neck, blood gushing out.
His head flew off directly, rolling to the corner of the wall.
His mouth was still open, his eyes wide, dying with a grievance.
Blood splattered across Sirius's face, and Sectumsempra even left a bloody cut on his cheek.
But Sirius was oblivious, simply staring blankly as the headless corpse fell to the floor, blood spreading across the floor.
Chapter 189 Reveals the Truth
After killing Peter, Snape stood in place, a few drops of blood splattered on his Black robes.
He stared at the headless corpse on the ground, his eyes hollow, as if looking at something unimportant.
After a few seconds of silence, Snape turned and left without looking back.
The sound of footsteps gradually faded, finally disappearing into the night.
It was unknown if he would return for dinner.
Only Charlie and Black remained in the room, along with the still-bleeding corpse on the ground.
Black stood blankly, Peter's blood still on his face.
He looked down at the headless corpse, his chest heaving violently, but his eyes grew increasingly empty.
His revenge was taken, but his heart felt hollow.
James and Lily could not come back.
Those twelve years of imprisonment had also completely destroyed him.
Everything was over, yet nothing was over.
Black suddenly felt very tired, so tired that even standing was difficult. He swayed, almost falling.
"What are you spacing out for?" Charlie walked over and kicked Peter's corpse.
"Clean up, it's time to go back to the Castle."
Black stared at him blankly.
"Go back to the Castle?"
"Otherwise?" Charlie crouched down, turning the stones on the ground into a shroud.
"Don't you want to clear your name?"
Black's lips moved, but he said nothing.
"Since you're following me now, as the boss, I naturally have to help my subordinate settle things," Charlie said, wrapping Peter's head. His movements were so practiced that one might wonder how many times he had done it.
"And once you regain your legal status, you can also help me with things in the future."
Black stared at Charlie, his throat tight.
"Thank you."
"Let's go." Charlie tucked the wrapped head into Black's arms and then waved his wand to levitate the corpse.
The two returned to the secret passage with Peter's corpse.
It was already dark, and warm light shone from the Castle windows.
It was dinner time, and students and Professor were all in the Great Hall, leaving the corridors empty.
But Sirius was still somewhat timid, having been a fugitive for so many years after all.
He also always believed that he was responsible for James and Lily's deaths and felt he had no face to meet his former friends and teachers.
"How about I don't go in?"
How could he not go in? What good would it do if the person involved wasn't present?
Charlie glanced at him, saying calmly,
"You've already thrown off the blame, what are you still afraid of?"
Black was stunned.
That's right.
Peter was dead, and the truth was in his arms.
Those twelve years of false accusation could finally be cast aside.
Looking at the familiar scenes of Hogwarts, Black's taut nerves gradually relaxed.
The stone statues in the corridor were still the same few, the suits of armor stood upright, and not even many of the portraits on the walls had changed.
His steps involuntarily quickened, and his heart rate sped up with them.
He had to tell Dumbledore the truth.
He had to tell Lupin that he wasn't a traitor.
He also had to reunite with Harry; after all, he was Harry's godfather.
The more Black thought, the more anxious he became, his steps growing faster and faster, and the hand holding Peter's head trembled slightly.
Charlie followed behind, his eyes a little strange.
The Great Hall doors were just ahead.
Black took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.
Creak—
The heavy oak doors let out a grating sound, and the Great Hall instantly fell silent.
Students at the long tables turned their heads in unison, and Professor on the staff table stopped their knives and forks. Hundreds of eyes stared at the doorway.
Black froze.
He looked down at the package in his arms, then at the shocked faces of everyone in the Great Hall.
Damn it.
He forgot that he was still a wanted criminal.
The blame was only *about* to be lifted, but it wasn't *actually* lifted yet.
"Ah ah ah ah!!"
"It's Black! Sirius Black!"
A student, who was the first to react, screamed, and the sound instantly erupted.
The Great Hall descended into chaos.
Several first-year girls dove under the tables, someone on the Gryffindor side knocked over pumpkin juice, and a student at the Slytherin long table fell off his chair in fright.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall shot to her feet, her wand already in hand.
Professor Flitwick jumped onto his chair, the tip of his wand glowing white.
Even Professor Sprout, usually slow-moving, pulled out her wand.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Stupefy!"
"Impedimenta!"
Seven or eight spells shot towards the doorway simultaneously.
Black's face turned pale; his life was over!
At this moment, Charlie rushed out from behind Black, waving his wand.
"Hold your spells!"
A silver shield instantly unfolded, blocking the two of them.
The spells hit the shield, creating a burst of light, and then all bounced off. One Stupefy spell went astray, directly hitting the ceiling and shaking down a shower of dust.
The Great Hall was silent once more.
Professor McGonagall still held her wand up, but out of trust for Charlie, she did not cast another spell.
She stared at Charlie in the doorway, her brow deeply furrowed.
"Charlie, what exactly is going on?"
The Great Hall was utterly silent, everyone holding their breath.
Charlie took two steps forward.
"Professor, he is not a murderer," Charlie said calmly.
"The true traitor is dead."
"What do you mean?"
Charlie briefly recounted the events of this semester, from discovering Scabbers was Peter, to capturing Peter.
Of course, he omitted details like the marauder's map, which could easily lead to rule violations.
Professor McGonagall's expression changed several times as she listened.
"Peter Pettigrew is alive? Where is he?"
"To be precise, he was alive just now."
Charlie waved his wand.
In the corridor outside the Great Hall, a headless corpse floated slowly in.
The corpse floated to the center of the Great Hall and landed with a thud.
Students gasped.
Several students closest to it immediately vomited; they had never seen such a sight.
Black stepped forward and placed Peter's head next to the corpse.
Nearly Headless Nick looked at the thoroughly headless corpse with great envy.
The Professor at the staff table, however, remained unfazed.
Professor McGonagall walked down, waved her wand, and conjured a thick blanket to cover the corpse.
She crouched down, lifted a corner of the blanket, and carefully examined the face.
Professor Flitwick also leaned in, pushing up his glasses.
"It's him, it really is Peter."
Dumbledore had been sitting in the head seat, silent.
His blue eyes fixed on Black, a complex emotion flashing through them.
"prefect." Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice very soft.
"Take the students back to their dormitories."
He paused, then looked at Charlie.
"Charlie, stay."
Then Dumbledore's gaze swept over the Gryffindor long table; someone looked very anxious.
"And Harry," Dumbledore said.
"You stay too."
Harry, given permission, quickly abandoned Ron, squeezed through the crowd, and ran to Charlie's side.
The prefect began organizing the students to leave, but everyone was craning their necks to look over, as if they wanted to twist them off.
Percy, who was already Head Boy, had to shout several times to get the Gryffindor out.
The Great Hall doors closed, leaving only a few Professor, Charlie, Harry, and Black.
Professor McGonagall turned around and stared at Charlie.
Her expression was very serious.
"Charlie, did you kill Peter?"
Charlie shook his head.
"It wasn't me, Professor Snape did it."
Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief, as for a student, an act like beheading was indeed a bit excessive.
Chapter 190 Snape's Little Secret
Professor McGonagall walked around Peter's corpse, her brow tightly furrowed.
"This matter must be reported to the Ministry of Magic."
"I agree." Dumbledore stood up and walked down from the dais. His robes dragged slightly on the floor.
"But before that, we need to clarify a few things."
His gaze fell upon Charlie, his eyes gleaming with inquiry.
"Charlie, how did you discover that Scabbers was Peter?"
Charlie had already prepared his explanation.
"At first, I didn't know he was Peter; I just felt that the rat was a bit off."
"What was off about him?" Professor Flitwick pushed up his spectacles.
"He lived too long," Charlie said.
"Can an ordinary rat live for over ten years? I just tried using the Reversal Charm, wanting to see if it was an Animagus."
Professor McGonagall nodded.
"That certainly is a suspicious point."
"And then?" Dumbledore asked.
"Then it changed back into human form." Charlie shrugged.
"That's when I realized it was Peter Pettigrew."
Dumbledore stared at Charlie for a few seconds, then didn't press the matter further. He turned toward Black.
"Sirius, I need you to tell me exactly, from start to finish, what happened that year."
Black took a deep breath and recounted the events of twelve years ago from the beginning.
From his suggestion to change the Secret-Keeper, to Peter's betrayal, and finally to his imprisonment in Azkaban. By the end of his story, his voice was trembling slightly.
The Great Hall was terrifyingly silent.
Professor McGonagall's face was pale, and Professor Flitwick took off his spectacles and polished them repeatedly. Even Professor Sprout covered her mouth.
"So you were wrongly accused." Professor McGonagall's voice was choked.
"You spent twelve whole years in Azkaban."
Black nodded silently.
Dumbledore was silent for a long time. He looked at Black, his eyes filled with guilt and sadness.
"I am very sorry, Sirius."
"It's not your fault." Black shook his head.
"I was the fool, for trusting Peter."
"Don't say that; none of us can truly see into a person's heart," Dumbledore said.
"What we must do now is prove your innocence."
"How do we prove it?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Peter is already dead."
"That means we need to search thoroughly before the hearing. We must be prepared for the Ministry of Magic not wanting to admit this, as it would be a scandal for the Ministry of Magic."
"Then what about me now..."
Black asked cautiously.
"I will notify the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore said.
"But until they arrive, you had best remain at Hogwarts. It is safer here than outside."
Black nodded. He paused, looking at Harry. "May I speak with Harry for a moment?"
Dumbledore glanced at Harry and smiled gently.
"Of course."
He deliberately stepped back, giving the two some space.
Harry stood rooted to the spot, feeling awkward. He looked at Black, unsure what to say.
Black was also nervous. He opened his mouth, his voice slightly dry.
"Harry."
"Hmm." Harry responded.
The two began an awkward, halting conversation.
Seeing that his business here was concluded, Charlie bid farewell to the Professors and left the Great Hall...
The next day, students were still discussing the events of the previous night.
The shock of the headless corpse was simply too great; this topic could stay on the school's trending list for at least a month.
At the Gryffindor long table, several lower-year students were discussing heatedly.
"When I saw that head roll on the floor, I didn't blink once, not scared in the slightest."
"You're lying, you were clearly hiding under the table then."
"Never mind that, just tell me if I blinked or not."
"Hmph, carrying a dead rat in your pocket and pretending to be a hunter. Thinking you're Senior Charlie, huh?"
The students were discussing with great enthusiasm, but only one person didn't participate at all, keeping his head buried low.
That was Ron.
His favorite chicken leg now tasted like chewing wax, and Ron's ears were so red they looked ready to bleed.
Although he had known before that Scabbers was likely Peter Pettigrew in disguise.
Seeing how disgusting Peter Pettigrew actually looked yesterday made it difficult for him to accept that he had lived with Peter for so long.
Those images kept flashing through his mind.
He had slept with Scabbers next to his pillow.
He had fed Scabbers food.
He had even carried Scabbers inside his robe to keep him warm.
Ron took a deep breath, left the long table, and found Charlie.
"Charlie." Ron pursed his lips, his eyes holding a hint of pleading.
"That... Scabbers..." His voice was trembling slightly.
"Was he really Peter? Could there have been a mistake?"
He hoped Charlie would tell him that Peter Pettigrew wasn't his Scabbers, so he could continue deceiving himself.
But Charlie was merciless.
"No, Scabbers was definitely that old man."
Ron stood dumbfounded.
Charlie continued:
"And you ate, lived, and slept with that old man for a long time. Stop deceiving yourself and face reality."
Ron was completely heartbroken and devastated.
It was unclear when Snape returned to the Castle; he had disappeared after killing Peter yesterday.
When class started today, Charlie immediately noticed something was wrong.
Snape had heavy dark circles around his eyes, and he looked utterly distraught.
His body was still brewing a Potion in the classroom, but his eyes were completely vacant.
Clearly, yesterday's events had triggered his memories of Lily.
Charlie sat in his seat, watching him with a look of pity.
Snape was just about to start lecturing when his peripheral vision caught sight of Charlie's face, and he froze.
That look was too glaring, as if he were looking at a pathetic wretch.
Snape's temples were throbbing fiercely.
He had been too emotional yesterday to notice, but it seemed Charlie had also heard about him and Lily?
"Charlie." His voice was very low.
"What is that look?"
Charlie didn't speak, he just sighed softly, his gaze becoming even more pitiful.
He even shook his head slightly and sighed softly, as if saying: "Alas, how pitiful."
The veins on Snape's forehead bulged, and his fingers gripped his wand tightly.
"It's alright, Professor," Charlie murmured softly, his tone never having been so gentle toward Snape.
"It's alright, I understand everything."
Snape took a deep breath.
He truly wanted to hit Charlie with an Avada Kedavra and send him off directly.
But he couldn't.
He could only grit his teeth and say, word by word: "Ten points from Hufflepuff."
Charlie nodded, his expression becoming even more understanding, his eyes seeming to say: "It's okay, as long as you vent it out."
Snape nearly spat blood right there.
He turned around, his back to the students, his shoulders trembling slightly, purely from anger.
By the end of the class, all he could do was deduct some House points from Charlie, which did nothing to deter Charlie's pity for him.
This was worse than killing him outright.
Chapter 191 Sirius Offers His Fortune and Loyalty
On the other side, Fudge arrived at Hogwarts with a team of Aurors.
He rushed into the Principal's office, not even having time to brush the dust off his robes.
"Dumbledore, you said Peter is still alive?" Fudge's voice rose several pitches.
"How is that possible! He died twelve years ago, and there was no body left!"
Dumbledore looked at him calmly: "His body is right here with me."
Fudge froze.
His mind raced. If Peter was truly alive, it meant the Ministry of Magic had locked an innocent person away in Azkaban and honored the actual criminal as a hero for twelve years.
Although he hadn't yet become Minister when the verdict was passed, this kind of scandal would drag the entire Ministry of Magic under.
The public wouldn't care who passed the judgment; they would only curse the Ministry of Magic for incompetence, and the current Minister would catch the blame too.
His public support was already low, and if something like this came out, it would be difficult to guarantee he wouldn't be impeached.
Fudge's palms began to sweat.
"I want to see it myself," he said.
Dumbledore waved his hand, and a body covered with a blanket appeared on the floor.
Fudge lifted a corner, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.
He recognized that this was Peter Pettigrew himself.
This meant that what Dumbledore said was likely true, and Peter Pettigrew was the one who defected to You-Know-Who.
At this moment, Fudge only wanted to cover the matter up so it wouldn't affect his career. As for the actual truth, he didn't care.
Fudge raised his head, forcing a smile onto his face:
"Dumbledore, you know, the Ministry of Magic has simply had too many things going on recently."
"So?" Dumbledore's tone was very flat.
"So if this matter were to be announced now..." Fudge wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"What will the public think? They will think the Ministry of Magic can't even tell the difference between the real killer and a scapegoat."
"That is the truth."
Fudge choked slightly, letting out two dry laughs:
"You can't put it that way. The case back then was certainly rushed, but what's important now is stability, is trust."
Dumbledore didn't reply.
Fudge cleared his throat and asked the Aurors to step out first. Once the office door closed, his tone became more direct:
"We can offer Black compensation. Whatever he wants, we can discuss it."
"Compensation?" Dumbledore's voice grew colder.
"Cornelius, he spent twelve years in Azkaban, accompanied by Dementors every day. Compensating him is only right!"
"Then what exactly do you want?"
Fudge was growing desperate. Do you insist on revealing the truth just to make me step down?
Dumbledore stared at him, remaining silent.
Fudge took a deep breath, lowering his voice:
"I apologize, Dumbledore, I lost my composure."
"But if you want me to announce your so-called truth... the court requires evidence."
He pointed at the body on the floor:
"What do you have to prove that this is Peter Pettigrew? What if it's just someone who looks like him?"
"How do you prove this body isn't fabricated? How do you prove he died recently, and that this isn't the original body preserved until now?"
Dumbledore was expressionless.
Fudge was somewhat intimidated by the sight, but still gathered his courage and continued:
"More importantly, even if this really is Peter, how do you prove he was the one who betrayed the Potters? Black killed thirteen people on the street back then; dozens of Muggles witnessed it."
"Your reasoning is sound—if Peter were a hero he wouldn't be hiding—but where is the evidence? Now Peter is dead, and there is no one to testify against him."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, his voice becoming very soft.
"Cornelius, you don't need to concern yourself with the evidence. When the trial day arrives, it will naturally be presented."
Fudge's expression changed. He understood the meaning behind Dumbledore's words: Dumbledorehad no intention of cooperating with him.
"Dumbledore, you are working against the Ministry of Magic."
Fudge's tone hardened, a rare occurrence.
"I am not opposing anyone. Everything I do is within the scope of the rules," Dumbledore said calmly.
Fudge took a deep breath, deciding to change his approach.
Since Dumbledore wouldn't cooperate, he decided to take Peter's body first.
As long as the body was in the Ministry of Magic's hands, he would have room to maneuver.
"Alright, we will take the body back for forensic examination first." Fudge said, about to signal the Aurors forward.
Dumbledore raised his hand and waved; the office door automatically closed, and frost even appeared on the doorknob.
"The body is safer remaining here." His tone was absolute.
"Before the trial, I also have the right to protect the evidence."
Fudge froze. He looked at Dumbledore, a wave of coldness washing over him.
Just imagine having such a formidable figure standing there; how comfortable could it be to hold the office of Minister?
But Fudge seemed to have forgotten that power always stems from strength.
Dumbledore himself represented absolute power in the magic world; it merely depended on whether he chose to wield it.
In the end, Fudge could only grit his teeth and leave the Principal's office, slamming the door shut violently as he departed.
The Aurors followed behind him, none daring to speak a word...
After class, Sirius found Charlie.
He held a small silver key and a piece of parchment in his hand, his expression somewhat complicated.
"Charlie," Black began, his voice a little dry.
"I'm here to fulfill my previous promise."
Black placed the key and the parchment on the table, pushing them toward Charlie.
"This is the House of Black's vault key at Gringotts, and the deed to the old Black family home. They are all yours now."
Charlie took the two items and examined them briefly.
The parchment felt very heavy, and the key was indeed for a high-security Gringotts vault.
"Furthermore, I myself will pledge my loyalty to you," Black added, his tone extremely serious.
Charlie deftly stuffed the key and the deed into his pocket.
while chuckling:
"Hey, why are you being so formal? I was just kidding back then, you actually took it seriously."
Black's mouth twitched. *Then why are you stuffing them into your pocket?*
"Is that everything?" Charlie blinked.
"These are the only items. Most of the assets are either piled up at the house or stored in the vault, however..." Black cleared his throat.
"Right now the properties and the vault are still nominally under my name, because the title hasn't been transferred yet."
"Transfer requires legal status," Black explained.
"And I am currently still a wanted fugitive, so I can't go to Gringotts to handle these procedures. Once the Ministry of Magic's trial is over and I have legal status, I can officially transfer all of this to you."
Charlie nodded, weighing the key in his pocket.
What else is there to say, brother? Just for the sake of this pile of assets, there's absolutely no way I'll let you go back to Azkaban.
Chapter 192 Hermione: Bouchard!
A few days later, the front-page headline of The Daily Prophet exploded.
"Peter Pettigrew Appears! Sirius Black May Be Innocent!"
In the black-and-white photograph, Peter's wretched face took up the entire page.
The magic world instantly split into two factions.
The argument lasted a whole day, spreading from Diagon Alley to the Ministry of Magic.
Some dug up old newspapers from twelve years ago for comparison, some wrote to the Ministry of Magic demanding a retrial, and others insisted it was a hoax, an attempt to exonerate a Death Eater in prison.
Regardless, everyone was waiting for the same thing—the trial.
Sirius therefore left Hogwarts and was temporarily staying at the Ministry of Magic.
With Dumbledore present, and many Aurors at the Ministry of Magic having been Sirius's comrades, no one dared to do anything to Sirius before the verdict was announced.
Hogwarts outwardly returned to calm; students went to class and gossiped as usual.
But Hermione's condition was becoming increasingly strange.
The dark circles under her eyes were heavier than Snape's, she walked with a whirlwind of speed, and her temper had become unusually volatile.
Because she had too many classes, she was simply too tired.
Although she had applied to Professor McGonagall to drop Divination Class and Muggle Studies Class, the new timetable would not take effect until next year.
Harry and Ron had learned to steer clear of her, terrified of accidentally getting a severe dressing-down.
The Divination Class classroom was filled with a rich scent of incense, and Professor Trelawney, wearing thick spectacles, drifted around the room.
"Now, my dears, gaze into your crystal balls and tell me what you see." Her voice was ethereal.
"Relax your Inner Eye, and allow visions of the future to surface naturally."
When it was Hermione's turn, she stared at the crystal ball for a long time.
Many people had actually told her that she could just babble about death and doom to pass, but she didn't want to do that, so she said honestly:
"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't see anything."
Trelawney floated in front of her and sighed.
"There's no need to force it. Divination truly requires a certain aptitude, which not everyone possesses."
Hermione's face instantly flushed.
For a top student who had never fallen behind in her studies, the most unacceptable thing was encountering something she couldn't learn.
She had been bottling up frustration for a while, and being provoked like this immediately made her feel somewhat overwhelmed.
"Perhaps the problem isn't aptitude, Professor." Hermione's voice was cold.
"Perhaps your method of Divination is fundamentally wrong; Arithmancy is the true form of Divination."
Trelawney's spectacles reflected a strange light in the candlelight:
"Miss Granger, I can see that you truly lack the Inner Eye; you are merely a poor, ordinary person."
"I've had enough!" Hermione grabbed her satchel.
"This is a complete waste of time!"
She turned and rushed out of the classroom, slamming the door shut.
Ron and Harry were stunned; they had never seen Hermione lose her temper like this.
"Hermione actually snapped at a Professor," Ron stammered.
Harry swallowed: "Why does it feel like Hermione has been possessed by Charlie?"
In the corridor, Hermione leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
She regretted her impulsiveness, but mostly she felt the satisfaction of having vented.
But quickly, she realized a problem—where should she go now?
She checked her watch; she still had an hour until her next class.
This hour was time she had gained using the time-turner, specifically for attending Divination Class. Since she wasn't attending Divination Class anymore, this period was now free.
The time-turner could only travel a maximum of five hours a day; she had already used three hours and could not waste any more time.
Thinking this, she subconsciously touched the gold chain around her neck, ensuring it was hidden beneath her clothes.
"Whoa, you shouldn't be rushing around this frantically."
Hermione looked up and saw Charlie leaning against the wall, watching her with a smile.
"Seriously, you'll drop dead if you keep this up."
Hermione was still in a mood where she'd kick a passing dog, and she said unceremoniously:
"If you were willing to do your own homework, I wouldn't have to push myself so hard."
Charlie gave a dry laugh.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"But an alien is inviting me to dinner, so I have to go. Bye."
After saying this, he bolted, moving as fast as if a Dementor were chasing him.
Hermione clenched her fists, resisting the urge to chase him down and beat him up.
Then she relaxed her hands and shook her head helplessly.
Never mind, she might as well use this time to do Charlie's homework.
There was nothing else to do anyway.
Evening, Gryffindor Common Room.
Hermione finally finished Charlie's last piece of homework; her quill dropped onto the table, and she leaned back entirely against the chair, her eyelids too heavy to lift.
The firelight from the fireplace flickered in her vision; she shook her head, forcing herself to stay awake.
She hadn't even started her own homework.
She spread out the parchment, dipped her quill in ink, and just as she wrote the title, her gaze fell upon the clock hanging in the corner.
It was almost nine o'clock.
Hermione stopped writing and calculated her schedule for the day.
In the morning, she had only used the time-turner to go back and attend Divination Class.
She rubbed her temples; her mind felt foggy.
How much time was left, again?
Two hours? Or three hours?
Hermione stared at the densely packed to-do list on the parchment, growing more irritable the longer she looked.
Never mind, it must be three hours. An extra hour to finish her homework meant she could sleep longer tonight.
She hid in a corner, pulled the time-turner from beneath her collar, the golden chain gleaming faintly in the firelight.
The hand turned, one revolution, two revolutions, three revolutions.
The surrounding scene began to distort; the fireplace flames burned in reverse, and the students in the common room moved backward as if rewound.
After the dizziness subsided, Hermione stood in the same spot, and the scene was still the GryffindorCommon Room.
She glanced toward the table and saw herself sitting there, writing furiously—it was Charlie's homework she was doing.
Hermione quickly lowered her head and headed toward the door, clutching her satchel.
After traveling back, she absolutely must not be seen by herself; Professor McGonagall had stressed this point.
She slipped out of the common room and hurried toward the library.
Madam Pince was organizing the bookshelves and said nothing when she entered, only gesturing with her eyes for her to be quiet.
Hermione found a corner seat, spread out her parchment, and began writing her own homework.
The tip of the quill scratched against the parchment, and before she knew it, two hours had passed.
Hermione was still writing furiously when her chest suddenly felt hot.
She paused and looked down at her collar.
The gold chain was burning hot; she could feel the heat through the fabric.
Hermione's face changed, and she quickly pulled out the time-turner.
The golden sand in the hourglass was flowing wildly, nowhere near its normal speed. The entire time-turner was trembling slightly, and fine cracks were appearing on its surface.
Her mind went blank with a crash.
She hadn't had three hours left today—she'd had two.
She had overused it.
"No..."
Before she could finish the word, the time-turner exploded.
A golden light instantly engulfed her; the parchment, quill, and ink bottle on the table—everything she had brought to this point in time—was glowing.
Madam Pince spun her head around, but the corner was already empty.
Only the chair was still rocking slightly.
Chapter 193 The Rules of the Time Converter
Hermione was gone.
But strangely, no one realized the problem.
Charlie was a Hufflepuff student, and normally, if he didn't actively seek Hermione out, he didn't have much contact with her.
He just found it a bit strange that Hermione wasn't around when Harry and Ron came to see him these past two days.
But he just assumed Hermione was too busy with classes.
It wasn't until the Transfiguration assignment deadline was brought forward that Charlie suddenly realized Hermione hadn't given him her homework yet.
This wasn't right.
Although Hermione always seemed like she wanted to kill him, her homework was never late.
So, at breakfast, Charlie found Ron, who was devouring his food.
"Where's Hermione? Why isn't she here for breakfast today?"
Ron looked up blankly, his mouth full of sausage: "Who?"
"Hermione," Charlie frowned.
"Who's Hermione?" Ron swallowed his sausage.
"Is she another one of your Slytherin friends?"
Charlie froze.
Was this person not fully awake? Or was he possessed by Lord Voldemort last night?
"Are you crazy? Hermione Granger, the top student in our year, who's very close to you guys, you three are always inseparable."
"Charlie, what are you talking about?" Harry also turned his head, pushing up his glasses.
"It's always been just the two of us; there's never been a Hermione."
"Besides, aren't you the top student in our year?" Ron added, forking another sausage.
Charlie felt a chill.
He stared at their faces, trying to find any trace of a joke.
But there was none.
Harry and Ron's expressions were terrifyingly sincere; that confusion wasn't faked.
Charlie turned and left, his steps getting faster and faster.
He Apparated to the Gryffindor common room and rushed straight up the stairs.
The door to the girls' dormitory was unlocked; he kicked it open.
The third-year girls' dormitory was empty, with only a few beds neatly arranged.
Parvati Patil's bed was piled with Divination Class textbooks.
Lavender Brown's nightstand held a stack of cosmetics.
Charlie looked at each bed, seeing unfamiliar names carved on the headboards.
And then there was nothing else.
No bed had Hermione's name on it.
Charlie stood at the doorway, counting three times.
But nothing changed.
Charlie took a deep breath, then turned and went downstairs.
Downstairs, there were a few girls who had just returned from the washroom, their hair still wet.
The moment they saw Charlie, several screams erupted simultaneously.
"Ah—a boy!"
"How did you get up here?!"
Some frantically pulled their robes tighter, while others instinctively took a step back.
The girl leading them, however, showed no reaction, merely gathered her damp hair, her gaze lingering on Charlie for a moment, a curve forming at the corner of her lips:
"Charlie White? Did you... come to the wrong dormitory?"
Her tone carried a hint of teasing, and she even took half a step forward.
Charlie had no time to deal with her and asked:
"Excuse me, do you know Hermione Granger? A third-year student."
A hint of disappointment appeared in the girl's eyes; she exchanged a look with the others behind her and shook her head.
"Never heard of that person."
"Granger? Is she a new student?"
"There shouldn't be anyone by that name in third year."
Charlie didn't ask further.
He snapped his fingers, erasing that segment of their memory; after all, appearing in the girls' dormitory was hard to explain.
Erasing this small piece of memory wouldn't affect them.
He walked out of the Gryffindor Tower, his mind a mess.
What exactly was going on? Perhaps he should ask a Professor?
Charlie burst into Professor McGonagall's office without even knocking.
Professor McGonagall was grading assignments and was startled by the suddenly opened door, her quill leaving a long ink mark on the parchment.
"Mr. White!" She looked up, her expression somewhat displeased.
"You should knock first."
"Professor, Hermione Granger," Charlie said directly.
"A third-year Gryffindor student, an all-A student; you should remember her very well."
Professor McGonagall paused, pushing up her glasses.
"Mr. White, Hogwarts has never had a student by that name."
Charlie's heart sank.
"That's impossible, she's your student, you even gave her a time-turner—"
"A time-turner?" Professor McGonagall interrupted him, her brow furrowed.
"Mr. White, I don't know where you heard about a time-turner. But that is an extremely dangerous magic item, strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic, and it's impossible to lend it to a student casually."
"But..."
"Are you under too much stress lately?" Professor McGonagall stood up, walked over to Charlie, her eyes filled with concern.
"Do you want to go see Madam Pomfrey? Perhaps you need a few days of rest."
Charlie didn't say anything more. He knew it was useless to keep asking.
He turned and left the office, encountering Percy, who was on patrol, in the corridor.
"Percy, do you remember Hermione Granger?"
Percy stopped, thinking seriously.
"Never heard of her. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Charlie continued walking, asking everyone he met. But without exception, they all shook their heads in denial; some even thought he was joking.
Charlie was not in the mood to joke with them and turned to leave.
He even went to the dungeons, found Snape, and told him about a student who always liked to answer questions without permission in his Potion Class.
And Snape's answer was direct.
"If there truly was such a know-it-all Miss in the world, my Potion Class would probably be much easier," he sneered.
"Unfortunately, there isn't."
He paused, then added: "Five points from Hufflepuff, for your insanity."
Charlie stood still, staring at Snape's face.
"If you don't leave now, I'll take ten points."
Charlie turned and left the dungeon, his steps getting faster and faster.
He rushed out of the Castle, stood on the empty lawn, and the cold wind made him shiver.
Everyone had forgotten Hermione, as if she had never existed.
Charlie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Why was this happening?
Standing on the lawn, with the cold wind blowing into his collar, he forced himself to calm down.
What was so special about Hermione?
He quickly recalled every detail of this semester.
Hermione's class schedule, her daily routine, how she always stayed up late doing homework... That's right, the time-turner.
The only thing different about Hermione this semester was that golden chain.
She used it to attend extra classes, appearing in different places at the same time.
Charlie's eyes snapped open.
If something went wrong with the time-turner... He didn't continue the thought, instead Apparating directly to the Principal's office.
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, holding an ancient book. Seeing Charlie appear, he put down the book and took off his half-moon spectacles to wipe them.
"I'm beginning to regret giving you Apparition privileges."
Dumbledore's tone was calm, but Charlie detected a hint of helplessness.
Charlie walked to the desk, placing his hands on the surface.
He changed his approach; asking directly about Hermione was useless, as no one remembered her.
"Principal, are there any dangers with the time-turner?"
Dumbledore's movements stopped.
He put his glasses back on, his blue eyes staring at Charlie through the lenses.
Charlie looked a bit agitated.
The office was eerily quiet, even the portraits of the Principals on the wall had stopped their whispers.
"Please sit," Dumbledore gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Relax a little, Charlie."
Charlie didn't move, but looked at Dumbledore with a clear conscience.
"Don't worry, Principal, I'm not going to do anything bad with a time-turner."
"Someone has been forgotten by everyone, the entire Hogwarts, no one remembers her. But I remember, only I remember."
"You suspect the time-turner is at fault?"
"Exactly," Charlie sat down.
"She's been using a time-turner for classes this semester, traveling through different timelines every day. Could this be the cause of the accident?"
Dumbledore was silent for a long time, his chin resting on his clasped hands.
After a long while, he lowered his hands.
"You might be right, Charlie."
Charlie's breathing quickened.
"The origin of the time-turner is untraceable, but the reason the Ministry of Magic strictly limits its use to five hours a day is because exceeding that limit can cause unpredictable things to happen."
"Do you know why?"
"No."
"Because spacetime does not permit the existence of time travel," Dumbledore's voice was very soft.
"When a person goes back from twelve o'clock noon to ten o'clock in the morning, the person at twelve o'clock will disappear, and there will be two people between ten o'clock and twelve o'clock. This violates the fundamental laws of time."
Charlie frowned: "But a time-turner can clearly do that."
"It's the time-turner's energy that protects the traveler," Dumbledore continued.
"It's deceiving time, making time mistakenly believe that everything is normal. When time returns to twelve o'clock again, the person from the original timeline will travel back according to what has happened, and the traveler will remain at that point in time. After twelve o'clock, there will still only be one person on the timeline."
Charlie understood:
"So the time-turner is using energy to maintain this lie."
"Exactly," Dumbledore nodded.
"But this energy can only last for five hours a day. If that limit is exceeded..."
He paused.
"In the Ministry of Magic's records, no one has ever used a time-turner beyond the time limit. Or rather, those who used it beyond the limit disappeared and never had a chance to leave a record."
Charlie's fists clenched: "So Hermione might have disappeared because she used it beyond the time limit..."
"If such a person truly exists," Dumbledore interrupted him.
"Then her current situation would be very dangerous. After the time-turner loses energy, spacetime will immediately detect an anomaly. It will correct this error, erasing any traces that shouldn't exist in this spacetime."
"Including people's memories?"
"Including everything," Dumbledore's tone became heavy.