"You're still young. There's no need to start imitating those old men so soon, putting on an adult's mask."
Outside the door, much of Sirius's anger had already faded. His voice was low and steady as he spoke.
He held onto Wade's arm and slowed his pace as they walked forward. His gaze was fixed ahead, his fingers unconsciously tightened and then loosened again, leaving a few creases on the boy's sleeve.
Wade turned to glance at him. Time hadn't dulled his handsome features, but it had cast the shadows of Azkaban in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes.
Something flickered through Sirius's mind, and his voice suddenly grew hoarse.
"When we were your age—me, James… and of course, Remus—we spent our days outsmarting Filch, or planning routes for our nightly adventures, or figuring out how to deal with a few slimy Slytherins…"
A faint smile crossed his lips, but before it could bloom, it twisted into deep pain.
"Back then, there was still a war outside… but we rarely thought about it. Yet you—you're only fourteen—and you have to watch others stand trial, and listen to those… those things…"
He suddenly turned his head away, and Wade could faintly hear the sound of teeth grinding.
"Damn maturity! Damn weighing of pros and cons!"
Sirius burst out angrily, though it was unclear at whom his fury was directed. He cursed fiercely for a few minutes before finally turning to Wade.
"Listen, kid. Leave those worries to the old folks. You have the right to be reckless and carefree—and the privilege to charge ahead without a plan!"
From the corridor came the faint whispers of the portraits.
Wade looked up at the man in his thirties who still carried a trace of youthful recklessness. His throat moved slightly, and a pure, almost gentle smile curved his lips.
"Sirius…"
The boy's eyes shone brightly, and his voice was soft. "I'm not Harry, and I'm not just some kid who needs protecting… I chose to be part of this."
"I know."
Sirius's voice was rough as he suddenly reached out and ruffled Wade's hair—roughly, but fondly.
He said in a low voice, "But as long as I'm still alive, you lot can afford to stay a few more years as reckless little punks—without forcing yourselves to face the darkness. Think of it as doing me a favor… giving me a chance to look cool, yeah?"
Wade looked into his eyes, opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words. The hand on his head felt heavy—carrying a warmth that burned.
"Sirius!"
A familiar voice made them both turn. Harry was running toward them from the other end of the corridor.
"I thought I was seeing things—what are you doing here at Hogwarts?"
Panting, Harry stopped, pushed his crooked glasses back up, and looked at his godfather with bright, excited eyes.
Sirius laughed heartily, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Of course I came to see our champion—and to give Dumbledore a little help. By the way, how's your prep for the third task going?"
"Oh! I've learned two really useful spells lately. Hermione says that way I won't get lost in the Forbidden Forest…"
Harry said eagerly. Sirius smiled as he listened, and Wade chimed in now and then.
After chatting for a while, Sirius patted Harry's shoulder and said, "Alright, boys, I'd guess curfew's about to start. Best head back before a professor catches you."
Harry was still reluctant to leave, but when he saw the time, he had no choice but to part reluctantly from his godfather and leave with Wade.
When the two boys' figures disappeared around the corner, the smile on Sirius's face gradually faded. Leaning against the cold stone wall, he fished a crumpled Chocolate Frog out of his pocket, tore it open, and popped it into his mouth.
From a distance came Peeves's eerie laughter as he tormented some students out past curfew. Sirius stood quietly and gray eyes churned with complicated emotions.
Countless fragmented clues pieced themselves together in his mind, though they still couldn't form a complete picture. But for a Gryffindor like him, he didn't need solid evidence—his instincts were enough.
—Was it you? The one Barty mentioned?
The man's fingers toyed with the Chocolate Frog wrapper, and the soft crinkle echoed faintly in his palm.
He couldn't help recalling the moment earlier when Barty Jr. had talked about killing those Muggles—the fleeting expression that had flashed across the boy's face then.
It was hard to tell how much of his own fury had been for those innocent victims, and how much had been because he couldn't stand seeing the boy repress his emotions. Maybe that was why his anger had erupted like a volcano.
—After today, Dumbledore will probably shake his head again, sighing that I'll never outgrow my reckless nature, huh?
But then again…
Who cares?
"Heh."
Sirius let out a sharp laugh through his teeth, and his canines grinded unconsciously as the torchlight along the stone wall flickered across his face.
The chocolate had already melted and the sweet syrup blended with the bitterness of cocoa on his tongue.
For a moment, he thought he saw James leaning against a railing, toying with a Golden Snitch—his messy black hair gleaming gold in the sunlight, his lips curled into that familiar, wild grin.
Then, in the blink of an eye, that hazy figure seemed to shift—into Harry.
The boy's emerald eyes were so clear, always filled with warmth and trust. His childhood hardships had made him far too understanding, kind to the point of self-sacrifice.
A few blinks later, the illusion vanished. All that remained was the quiet, shadowy corridor. The students had all gone back to their dorms, leaving the castle vast and empty.
"Completely mad…"
Sirius muttered to himself, shaking his head.
He had originally planned to confirm a few things with Wade, but now he abandoned the idea. There was no need to ask.
Some truths didn't need to be proven—just as, back then, when they decided to learn Animagus magic, James had never asked Remus about the secret of his full moons; and when his friends took in a runaway Sirius, they never questioned why he'd broken from his family.
Just remembering the look in Wade's eyes—burning with restrained fury—made Sirius's chest feel hot. That fiery gaze, filled with compassion and anger for strangers, could never belong to a cold-hearted person.
So…
Whether Wade was truly the one who had once defeated Voldemort or not, Sirius didn't care.
He just needed to know that this boy was someone worth trusting.
And yet… the more aloof and quiet someone appeared, the softer their heart often was.
While others—those who smiled gently—might just have hearts cold and hard as stone.
Sirius took a deep breath, letting the cold air of the corridor fill his lungs. He licked his teeth, turned around, and made his way back toward Filch's office.
When he pushed the door open, the interrogation was nearing its end.
Barty Crouch Jr. sat slumped in his chair, his face twisted into a chilling smile as he muttered incoherently:
"The Master's plan… will soon succeed. He'll be stronger than ever before… the whole wizarding world will kneel at his feet… and I… I will receive a reward beyond any wizard's wildest dreams…"
His voice trembled with feverish devotion and longing; the last few words were barely a whisper.
Moments later, Barty's head lolled to the side, unconscious—but that eerie smile was still frozen on his face.
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