Seamus burst into the Great Hall, breathless, and slapped a folded newspaper onto the table.
"Everyone, gather around," he said, loud enough to turn heads.
The Gryffindors crowded in instantly, eager for the latest news.
"Dufftown," Seamus said, jabbing a finger at the headline.
Hermione leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Dufftown?" she repeated. "That's not far."
Neville swallowed hard. "He won't come here, right?" His voice was nervous, and no one could blame him. The idea of a mass murderer lurking so close to Hogwarts was enough to make anyone uneasy.
Ron shook his head, frowning. "It should be difficult. The Dementors are guarding the place, aren't they?" He'd already seen how dangerous those creatures were. The memory alone sent a chill through him.
But Seamus shot back immediately. "Didn't he already trick them before? He can do it again."
The conversation buzzed around the table, but for Harry, it was just background noise. His mind kept circling back to Mr. Weasley's words.
Sirius Black is responsible for you being an orphan.
Responsible for your parents' deaths.
Loyal to Voldemort.
"He was their friend. And he betrayed them."
The words echoed in his head, over and over.
His fingers clenched into fists on his lap.
"Harry. Harry."
Someone was calling him.
He barely noticed his breathing had gone shallow until Hermione nudged him under the table—subtle but firm. It was enough to drag him back to the present.
Harry exhaled slowly, forcing himself to unclench his fists.
"Maybe we should just focus on breakfast," he muttered, grabbing a piece of toast.
Ron gave him a weird look but didn't argue. Hermione, though, studied him a second longer before nodding.
Yeah. Breakfast. Right.
Because what else was he supposed to do? Go hunt Sirius Black down himself?
"I'll see you in class," Harry said, standing abruptly.
Ron frowned. "Mate, we've got—"
"I need some air."
He wasn't in the mood to sit around anymore.
As he walked through the hallway, his thoughts raced.
Sirius will come to me.
He had been warned over and over—Sirius Black would come. To kill him. To prove his loyalty to Voldemort.
I hope he does.
But…
Harry exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he strode down the corridor.
I needed to be strong.
It wasn't enough to hope he'd be ready. He had to make himself ready.
Despite being victorious in the last two years—against trolls, basilisks, and even Voldemort himself (though weakened)—the only things he hadn't beaten yet were Snape… and his exams.
And he doubted either of those had prepared him for Sirius Black.
Luck wouldn't be enough this time.
Sirius Black wasn't some monster lurking in the shadows or a puzzle waiting to be solved. He was a murderer. A traitor. A fully grown, experienced wizard who had already outwitted the Ministry and broken out of the most secure prison in the wizarding world. (According to his knowledge, at least.)
Harry barely knew more than a handful of spells that weren't for schoolwork. What was he supposed to do if—when—Black came for him?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Professor Lupin seemed friendly, at least.
Harry's mind shifted to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—the only real teacher they'd had for the subject in the past two years.
Lockhart had been a walking disaster, more interested in his own reflection than actual teaching. And Quirrell? Well, he'd had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.
( Quirrell was not bad, it was just potter new to magic didn't understand much , Even Lockhart was not a fool, otherwise how could he teach the senior class , it's just forced plot for me )
Compared to them, Lupin was practically a miracle. He actually taught—proper lessons, useful spells. Even just a few days in, Harry had already learned more from him than the last two professors combined.
Maybe… maybe he could help.
Harry wasn't sure how to ask.
"Hey, Professor, I need to learn how to fight a mass murderer who might be coming after me—any tips?"
Yeah, that would go over well.
But still. Lupin was different. He listened. He didn't treat Harry like a child or a celebrity.
Maybe that was worth something.
After all, he didn't think anyone else would help him.
A senior professor like McGonagall? She'd just try to calm him down, tell him to focus on his studies, and leave it to the adults.
As if that had ever worked out for him before.
No, if he wanted to be ready, he needed someone who would actually teach him. Someone who wouldn't just dismiss him or talk in riddles.
And right now, Professor Lupin was the best option he had.
Oh.
And it was his class next.
*************
Suggestions after reading till now