Chapter 555: Undercurrents
That evening, the young witches and wizards had the time of their lives.
Weaving between towering jack-o'-lanterns, everyone chatted excitedly about Hogsmeade and the spectacular ghost performance.
Every now and then, a student would pull out a Magic Hand Mirror, animatedly gesturing at their reflection with exaggerated expressions.
The pies had been baked so soft that Sean found it impossible to stop them from melting across the banquet table.
For him, it was another day of eating his fill—a thoroughly satisfying day.
For others, however—especially Remus Lupin and Sirius Black—the night was filled with drifting worries that clung like cottonwood fluff on the wind.
The Headmaster's Office remained dark. On festival nights, Albus Dumbledore always preferred to linger in the Great Hall a little longer.
As a result, Lupin's brow never relaxed. His gaze followed the Headmaster constantly, and every so often he would let out a weary sigh before closing his eyes.
The enchanted pumpkins flickered on and off, while the long dining tables folded themselves away and transformed into rows of beds. Once again, the students would spend the night sleeping in the Great Hall.
Many of them continued whispering excitedly to one another. The past few days had been such a novel experience that it seemed they would never run out of things to say.
Sean followed Professor Snape through the hall, helping silence the last pair of whispering Slytherins with a single icy glare.
The Great Hall finally fell quiet.
"Go to sleep."
Snape's expression never changed.
Sean turned around and naturally spotted five young wizards waving at him.
His gaze drifted toward Professor Snape and then the professors seated at the High Table. He couldn't help noticing that Mr. Lupin was far more tense than usual.
On the final day before the operation began, Lupin's eyes had landed on Sean almost as many times as they normally would over an entire week.
Sean silently returned the look before climbing into his sleeping bag.
Then, as though remembering something, he slowly sat back up and slipped into the darkness.
He needed to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore.
Whatever was about to happen at Hogwarts, the Headmaster deserved to know in advance.
Watching Sean leave, Lupin rose to his feet as well. He calmly drained the last sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet before heading in the direction Dumbledore had just gone.
Before he could enter the Headmaster's Office, a gentle yet puzzled voice echoed through the corridor.
"Remus... it seems you're looking for me."
Dumbledore's tall figure gradually emerged from the shadows.
Lupin seemed unsurprised.
His gaze had been so intense and unwavering that it would have been impossible not to notice.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh? How unusual. For all these years, I've been the one trying to find you..."
Dumbledore teased lightly.
He had always wanted to keep in touch with Lupin. His goodwill had never faded, and if Lupin had only accepted it, Dumbledore would gladly have offered what little help he could.
The unfortunate truth, however, was that Lupin had exiled himself from the world for far too long.
Over all those years, they had exchanged precious few letters.
"I'm sorry, Professor. What happened back then... affected me more deeply than I cared to admit."
Lupin spoke slowly.
His brows twisted together, every muscle in his body tense with exhaustion.
"I'm glad."
A warm smile spread across Dumbledore's face.
"I'm very glad, Remus. After all these years, you've finally admitted that."
His eyes narrowed kindly.
For someone carrying unimaginable grief, merely speaking of the past could reopen old wounds.
Those memories were thorns lodged in the heart.
One spent a lifetime learning how to live while carrying that pain.
And in Dumbledore's eyes, acknowledging the hurt was always the first step.
"You're always like this, Professor."
Lupin never looked directly at him, yet an image surfaced unbidden in his mind.
A gentle old wizard taking the hand of a homeless young werewolf.
Asking whether he would like to attend Hogwarts.
Lupin shook his head slightly, forcing the memory away.
"Long ago, someone made a prophecy. I believe she's still here at Hogwarts, protected under your watch. To be honest, Professor... I've often wondered why the Dark Lord wanted to kill Harry when he was still an infant. What exactly did that prophecy say? And why was it known both to him... and to us?"
He asked in an even tone.
The smile slowly faded from Dumbledore's face.
"You're protecting a criminal."
His gaze turned cold.
"I trust you, Remus. I know you would never help him enter this castle."
"I would never assist any criminal in entering Hogwarts."
Lupin lowered his eyes respectfully.
Dumbledore remained silent for a long while, studying the gentle middle-aged man before him.
Beneath that calm exterior had always been remarkable resilience.
"Professor Dumbledore, I only want to know whether someone among us can still be trusted. I will never tolerate evil, not even in the slightest. But I need to know whether Mr. Green is truly safe.
Only you can answer that.
Tell me what happened back then.
How did the Dark Lord learn that a child born at the end of July would become his greatest enemy?
Who... betrayed us?"
Lupin looked directly into Dumbledore's eyes.
There was apology there.
But there was also an unshakable stubbornness.
Dumbledore said nothing.
Alarm bells rang through Lupin's mind.
Sometimes, silence itself was an answer.
"Perhaps he once lost his way."
Dumbledore finally spoke.
"But I must tell you that it was never his true nature.
And now...
he is one of us."
He emphasized the point once more.
Judging by Lupin's expression, the man still hadn't accepted it.
But that was all right.
Sooner or later, Dumbledore believed, he would understand.
The old wizard's towering shadow stretched across the corridor.
Near the place where the torchlight distorted that shadow, a furry little head cautiously peeked out from behind a suit of armor.
The black cat had never expected to overhear a conversation between Dumbledore and Professor Lupin.
Curled behind the armor, it watched Lupin struggle to steady his breathing as he stared at the Headmaster.
No one understood better than the cat how accurate Dumbledore's words truly were.
For Professor Severus Snape, losing his way might well be the most fitting description possible.
Unlike so many Death Eaters, Snape had never sought power to dominate or harm others.
He had simply been an insecure eleven-year-old boy with fragile self-esteem and no one to guide him—a child desperately obsessed with status and strength.
That obsession had been born from his childhood.
His father despised magic, creating the miserable life endured by both Snape and his mother.
He had witnessed the strength of witches and wizards, his mother's helplessness, and his father's rage.
And so he developed a simple question:
Why shouldn't wizards fight back against Muggles?
From there, resentment spread.
He came to dislike Muggles—and even weak witches and wizards.
It showed itself not only in the way he constantly targeted Hermione, but also in his deep disappointment with Neville.
The black cat's fluffy ears twitched.
It seemed to have heard rather more than it was supposed to.
Without making a sound, it slipped away into the darkness.
And disappeared beneath the knowing gaze in Dumbledore's eyes.
The old wizard stared toward the suit of armor.
The corners of his mouth trembled slightly.
Lupin was fairly certain it wasn't because he was trying not to laugh.
Eventually, Lupin left.
He departed carrying both fear...
and a mission that had to be fulfilled.
Dumbledore returned to the Headmaster's Office.
«The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him... born as the seventh month dies»
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