The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

Peter lunged at the cage door, his two front paws frantically scratching at the metal bars, the sharp claws scraping against them with a piercing sound.

It used its teeth to bite, its head to ram, and all its might to push against the locked door.

But the runes only flickered slightly, as if mocking its futility.

"squeak--!"

Peter let out a sharp cry, a sound that no longer sounded like a mouse's—it was a sound squeezed from the depths of his soul, somewhere between fear and despair.

It frantically circled in the cage, its tail thrashing like a startled snake. Its eyes—those small, shiny black eyes that belonged to a mouse—were wide open, reflecting the silver runes on the cage walls.

"Got you?"

A voice rang out from the shadows.

The voice wasn't loud, it could even be described as very soft, but every word pierced Peter's ears like an icicle. He froze in his cage, all movement ceasing in that instant—even his breathing stopped.

A figure slowly walked out.

His emerald eyes gleamed calmly in the darkness, like two pieces of jade polished by moonlight. His dark robes blended almost seamlessly into the shadows of the corridor, with only a faint glow from the tip of his wand illuminating his face.

It was a young face, but the expression on it didn't look like that of a third-grade student.

He held the tip of his wand against the top of the cage, ensuring the seal was secure. His movements were unhurried, like a hunter inspecting his prey in a trap—determined, composed, and with a chilling calmness.

The mouse in the cage raised its head, and the face in front of it was reflected in its bright black eyes.

Peter's gaze shifted from those emerald green eyes to the boy's features—the contours of his face, the lines of his chin, the color and shape of his eyes.

He recognized the face.

It wasn't because he had seen Julien Black before, but because the face at that moment looked remarkably like someone else.

The person he feared most—Sirius.

"Twelve years, Peter," Julien said softly, a cold smile appearing on his lips as he looked at the rat in the cage that was no longer circling but trembling all over.

"You think turning into a rat will allow you to escape everything? You think hiding in the Weasleys' house will guarantee your safety?"

He tilted his head, and the corners of his mouth widened slightly.

"The game is over."

Julien's voice was like an ice dagger, cutting off Peter's thoughts.

He extended his wand and gently tapped it above the cage. The runes glowed even brighter, and the air inside the cage seemed to thicken, enveloping Peter's body like syrup.

"Squeak—squeak—" Peter cried out in terror, struggling frantically in the cage, trying to transform back into human form, trying to grasp the last glimmer of hope for escape. But the magic within its body seemed to be frozen, and no matter how it tried to mobilize it, it could not break through the seal of those runes.

Its limbs were twitching, its tail was trembling, and its whole body was convulsing as if it were dying.

But nothing happened.

It was still a mouse. A gray, hairless mouse trapped in a cage.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you," Julien laughed contemptuously, his emerald eyes devoid of warmth. "You're still useful. Sirius is still waiting for you."

There was a hint of sarcasm in his smile.

"And... those Dementors in Azkaban, they also crave some fresh air, even if it's just a rat."

He straightened up, and his wand drew a circle in the air.

The cage began to shrink, from the size of a canary cage to the size of a fist, and finally to a small bronze ball that could be held in the palm of your hand. The light of the runes dimmed as the cage shrank, eventually going out, leaving only faint, fine engravings visible on the metal surface.

Julien held the cage in his palm, feeling it vibrate slightly in his hand—it was Peter trembling inside.

Julien didn't say anything more. He put the cage into the pocket of his robe, zipped it up to make sure it wouldn't fall out, then turned and walked briskly down the corridor.

His emerald green eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness, and a faint smile played on his lips.

Everything is proceeding according to plan.

---

In the evening, Hagrid sat on a rock by the Black Lake, his huge body curled up like an abandoned hill.

He was clutching a handkerchief that was already soaked through—or rather, something he used to wipe his tears, which could have been a napkin or something similar.

His hunting dog, Tooth, lay at his feet, purring softly, almost whimpering, occasionally nuzzling his master's boots with its nose, but Hagrid did not react.

Julien, Elizabeth, and Lyria stood silently around Hagrid.

"Hagrid?" Harry's voice came from behind him, tinged with a cautious probing.

Hagrid didn't turn around. His gaze was fixed on the lake, where the gray sky was reflected. Several water monsters lazily tumbled in the distance, shattering the reflection, but unable to dispel the gloom on his face.

"Hagrid, what happened? We didn't see you in your hut, so we came here," Harry said first.

Hagrid's shoulders trembled. The soaking wet handkerchief was twisted into a rope in his hand.

"The Ministry of Magic," he began with difficulty, as if each word was being coaxed from his throat, "they received a report that Buckbeak is dangerous and unsuitable to be kept at the school."

He paused, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a bitter laugh and a sob. "Unsuitable? Have they seen it? Have they seen it soaring in the sky?"

"Who reported it?" Harry asked.

"Who else could it be!" Ron's voice was filled with anger. "It must be Malfoy's gang, who else could it be!"

Hagrid did not answer. But his silence itself was the answer.

"What are they going to do?" Hermione asked, even though she already had a pretty good idea of ​​the answer.

"Will you be expelled?" Harry asked anxiously.

"I'm alright, Dumbledore saved me, a good man," Hagrid said, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion. "But, but..."

"They're going to execute Buckbeak," Hagrid sobbed, his hands trembling violently.

"Next week, right next week, they'll send Walton McNeil... that executioner. Fudge will come in person too."

Julien and the other two exchanged glances and nodded silently.

"Oh no! Oh God, no!" Hermione screamed. Toothpaste let out a long wail beside her.

“We can’t let them do that,” Harry said, his voice suddenly becoming firm. “We can let Buckbeak go, at night, or…”

"No," Hagrid turned his head sharply, his eyes bloodshot but unusually clear, "No, Harry. We can't do that."

"Why?" Ron asked, puzzled. "This is clearly the best way! Let Buckbeak fly away, or... Julien, what do you say?"

"Because of Headmaster Dumbledore," Julien said calmly.

"Do you remember what happened in the Chamber of Secrets last year? The Board of Governors already gave him trouble. Now the Ministry of Magic's verdict has reached the school. If they release Buckbeak again without authorization, the Malfoy family will make a big fuss about it. They'll say Dumbledore mismanaged the school, that he condoned dangerous creatures, that he's unfit to be headmaster..."

Hagrid covered his eyes with a handkerchief: "Julien is right, I can't drag him down any further. He's already taken too much for me."

Harry opened his mouth, only to find all his rebuttals stuck in his throat. He remembered last year, the chaos when Dumbledore was temporarily suspended, and the night Hagrid was sent to Azkaban.

"You can all leave," Hagrid said, taking a deep breath. He picked up a rock and threw it into the water in a fit of anger. "I'm fine. Really. I just... want some peace and quiet."

Julien, Elizabeth, and Liria returned to the castle first. Their eyes were resolute as they left, showing no sadness, for they had already decided on the date of their operation.