The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

Under the clear light of the full moon, the branches of the willow tree appeared a sickly silvery-white.

The first timeline.

Lupin's body was twisted at an impossible angle, and his bones made a sickening cracking sound under his skin.

The tattered gray-brown robe was torn, revealing a torso quickly covered in gray-black hair.

His face protruded forward, his nose extended into the black snout characteristic of wolves, and his usually gentle eyes turned cloudy amber, with the pupils contracting into two thin lines.

The moment the transformation was complete, he threw his head back and let out a long howl. The sound was neither like a wolf nor like a human, but rather a pure, untamed expression of wildness that was somewhere in between.

At this moment, Harry in the first timeline is helping the injured Sirius Black—who is still in human form.

Hearing the howl, Harry turned around sharply.

"No..." Sirius's voice was hoarse as he rushed forward, trying to hug the werewolf. "Remus... remember, you're still human! A human!"

The werewolf paused upon hearing this. But when the moonlight shone unrestrainedly on its face again, its eyes were once again filled with wildness and madness.

Its gaze locked onto them—or more precisely, onto Harry: the living, breathing prey that exuded the scent of fear.

It pushed off the ground with its hind legs and pounced at an astonishing speed, completely ignoring Sirius's presence.

"Get out of the way!" Sirius warned Harry as he transformed back into a large black dog and tried to ram the werewolf away.

However, the werewolf turned around and swept his claws across, sending Sirius flying. Sirius crashed heavily into an oak tree, slid to the ground, and lay motionless.

At that moment, Peter Pettigrew seized the opportunity to transform into a mouse again and scurried away. Hermione and Ron were too late to give chase; it had already disappeared into the bushes.

"Sirius!" Harry screamed, raising his wand to rush over and check on the situation, but the werewolf had already turned to him—drool dripping from between his fangs like broken beads in the moonlight.

At this critical moment—

"Awooo—! Awooo—!"

Two sharp, poorly imitated wolf howls came from behind the bushes.

The werewolf's ears snapped toward the source of the sound. Instinct overcame its hunger—it sensed a challenge, the voice of a competitor.

It let out a low growl, abandoned Harry in front of it, and turned to pounce on the source of the sound.

Sirius Black groggily awoke from his unconsciousness, now back in human form. He staggered to his feet, but lost his balance and tumbled down the hillside. Harry quickly gave chase.

Behind them, Hermione, supporting the injured Ron, was about to catch up when Professor Snape, who had rushed out of the hole in the willow tree, stopped them. As a professor, he naturally wouldn't allow his student to be in danger, especially since Ron was injured.

The second timeline.

Harry and Hermione had already experienced everything that was happening before their eyes. As the werewolf was about to rush at Harry, Hermione suddenly realized—the "Awooo!" sound in the first timeline was her own.

So she cupped her hands around her mouth and cried out, "Awoo!"

"What are you doing!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"I'll save you. Run!"

The werewolf immediately turned to Hermione and Harry in the second timeline and gave chase at an astonishing speed. The two rushed desperately towards the lake, Hermione able to feel the stench growing ever stronger behind them.

Suddenly, a bolt of silver-gray lightning struck from the sky—

Buckbeak!

The hippogriff spread its nearly five-meter-wide wingspan, resembling a diving bomber, and its iron-gray hooves slammed heavily on the ground in front of the werewolf, kicking up a cloud of dust.

It let out a deafening shriek, its orange-yellow eyes fixed on the werewolf, its wings spread wide, forming a majestic barrier.

The werewolf hesitated. Its beastly instincts told it that the creature before it was not to be trifled with—its pride, its awe-inspiring and unassailable presence, was like an invisible wall.

"Good girl," Hermione gasped, seizing the opportunity to get behind Buckbeak, "No, good lad... block it!"

As Buckbeak confronted the werewolf, Hermione pulled Harry to the lake. On the opposite shore lay Sirius Black and Harry from the first timeline.

---

In the shadow of the pine forest by the lake, Julien raised his head, his dragon-skin jacket motionless in the night wind.

"Here it comes," he said softly.

Elizabeth and Lyria gripped their wands tightly. They saw Buckbeak retreating, leading the enraged werewolf toward their pre-arranged location.

The moment the werewolf chased Buckbeak into the forest clearing, two spells lit up simultaneously.

"He collapsed to the ground!" (Stupefy)

Two beams of red light shot out from the tips of the two girls' staffs.

Instead of attacking the werewolf's body—that would be too dangerous, potentially angering it or even injuring its true form, Professor Lupin—he struck precisely at the ground in front of its feet, unleashing a powerful flash and a deafening roar.

The werewolf instinctively jumped back, landing right into a trap on the ground: it was a "Night Vine Cage" that Liria had set up in advance. Silver-white vines burst out from under the fallen leaves and wrapped around the werewolf's limbs like living creatures.

"Alright!" Elizabeth seized the opportunity to leap out, her Star Ranger suit shimmering with a dark luster under the moonlight. Instead of using an attack spell, she splashed a pre-prepared bottle of liquid, shimmering with a silver-blue light, onto the werewolf—a wolfsbane potion, but modified by Julien's alchemy, making it more potent and faster-acting, suitable only for external use.

The moment the potion touched the werewolf's skin, it let out a painful howl. Its gray-black fur began to fall out, and its bones cracked again—but this time they were shrinking and reforming. Its amber eyes gradually lost their wildness, returning to a weary gray-brown.

Remus Lupin knelt on the ground, naked and trembling, but he had already returned to human form. He weakly raised his head and saw Elizabeth and Liria. His lips trembled as he tried to say something, but the hypnotic ingredients in the potion quickly put him into a deep sleep.

"All done," Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and quickly draped a spare cloak over him. "Hopefully he won't remember too much when he wakes up."

"Julien, it's your turn," Liria called out, turning her head.

Julien did not turn back; he had already walked to the other side of the lake shore.

There, a dark mass of Dementors was drifting in from all directions—dozens, no, hundreds, like a moving blanket of night. Ragged cloaks fluttered above the lake, the holes beneath the hoods like countless miniature black holes, swallowing starlight and warmth.

They sensed it. They sensed Sirius—the escaped prisoner, the prey carrying both intense memories of joy and pain.

They also sensed the greater hope within Harry Potter—that young life.

In the second timeline, Harry and Hermione stand by the lake waiting. Harry still believes that his father will come to rescue them.

Because in his chaotic memories, in the first timeline, when the Dementors pounced, a silver light flashed in the distance—a stag, his father's guardian spirit, drove away the monsters.

"He'll come," Harry murmured, staring anxiously at the opposite shore of the lake. "Dad's coming..."

But this time, no stag came running from afar.

The Dementors are getting closer and closer, about to give Sirius and himself that final "fatal kiss".

The coldness sent shivers down Harry's spine across the lake. He realized—his father wouldn't come. That Patronus wasn't his father; it could only be himself. Even if it wasn't, he couldn't bear to watch Sirius and his past self die.

"Expecto Patronum!"

To be honest, Harry wasn't deliberately trying to recall those wonderful memories at this moment—perhaps those wonderful memories had already been deeply imprinted in his heart ever since he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter.

At that moment, only the urgent need to save others and save himself filled his entire body, and a silver light burst forth from the tip of Harry's staff like never before, more intense than in any previous practice session.

The light gradually coalesced and took shape, eventually transforming into a magnificent stag. Its shimmering silver antlers resembled a crown, its four hooves pounding the ground as it let out a silent roar.

The stag charged at the group of Dementors, driving them away and scattering them.

But there were too many Dementors, seemingly endless. The stag's light gradually dimmed under the onslaught, and Harry felt his power being frantically drained—he couldn't hold on much longer.

"Hang in there, Harry!" Hermione called after him. The Dementors' chill was making her teeth chatter. "Just a little longer!"

Harry sensed something was wrong—why were there so many more Dementors than in the first timeline? But he didn't give up, continuing to maintain his magical output until he passed out.

More Dementors swarmed in, like a school of sharks drawn by the scent of blood. They gathered in the air, this time with a different target: two more vibrant lives—Harry and Hermione from the second timeline.