283 0282 Hatred

The three young wizards ignited the tips of their wands, casting beams of light that sliced through the darkness, aiding Hagrid in his search. So far, they hadn't heard any human voices, which might be a good thing. Malfoy was definitely no match for Black, but Harry thought that he should still be able to let out a few screams before dying.

Hagrid's expression was etched with seriousness as he navigated the motorcycle. The urgency that radiated from him was palpable; his initial task had been a simple retrieval of a reckless young wizard who had dared to practice flying in the Forbidden Forest under the cover of night. But now, the stakes were higher, and he needed to ascertain the situation with the centaurs.

The Forbidden Forest, nestled against the grounds of Hogwarts, was rumored to be home to werewolves—a legend among the young wizards, but a reality known to both Dumbledore and Hagrid. Traces of werewolf activity had been found deep within the forest.

The possibility of a war between centaurs and werewolves, especially one that could involve Hogwarts, was a thought that filled Hagrid with dread.

After another ten minutes of flight, the dense vegetation forced Hagrid to bring the motorcycle to a halt. They would have to continue on foot.

As they trekked through the forest, the paw prints they had been following became scattered and erratic, suggesting that the dog had expended most of its energy by this point. Hagrid's keen eyes spotted traces of shattered spells on a tree trunk, evidence of a magical struggle.

"Is this Malfoy's doing?" Ron asked, his voice trembling with fear.

No one answered, not even Harry or Hermione. 

The night was deepening, and the damp ground beneath their feet began to freeze, the frost-covered twigs and leaves crunching under their steps. Each sound seemed amplified in the quiet of the forest, a cacophony that set their nerves on edge and heightened their sense of alarm.

The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, where every leaf and twig seemed to hold its breath under the weight of the night. The trio, along with Hagrid, had fanned out in a strategic formation, each step deliberate, ensuring no clue was left unseen, no stone unturned. Harry's eyes were fixed on the ground, tracing the faint impressions left behind, a silent testament to the events that had unfolded earlier.

Hermione's voice, usually so full of confidence and curiosity, now carried a tremor of fear and helplessness that cut through the silence like a knife. 

"Harry," 

And in that moment, Harry sensed that something was wrong. He looked up sharply, pointing his wand in the direction Hermione was facing. With just one glance, he felt as if a cold, large hand had clenched his stomach, causing pain and nausea to torment his nerves simultaneously.

Ron's complexion had turned a ghastly shade, his body swaying as if he might collapse at any moment, while Hagrid stood as still as a statue, a silent sentinel next to Hermione. 

The scene that unfolded before them was like a painting, both macabre and surreal. The moon, a silent observer in the sky, bathed a rare clearing in its ethereal glow. The pits that marred the forest floor caught the moonlight, transforming it into a pool of silver luminescence. It was a haunting beauty that belied the potential horror of the scene—was the liquid that filled the pits mere water mixed with ice, or blood?

In the heart of the clearing lay a figure, motionless, with a broomstick cast aside as if it were a child's forgotten toy. A second figure loomed over the first, its movements frantic and disheveled as it searched the body. 

Malfoy, whom Harry had always despised the most among the young wizards, was lying weakly on the ground. Harry didn't know how to describe his feelings when he saw Malfoy's body like that, but he knew that the gaze he fixed on the crouching wizard was definitely not one of gratitude.

The man who stood beside the pale figure of Draco Malfoy rose slowly, his movements hesitant and shaky. As he turned to face the unexpected visitors, his eyes widened in a mix of fear and disbelief. The sight of Hagrid's imposing form and the familiar faces of Harry, Hermione, and Ron seemed to root him to the spot. His initial instinct was to flee, to vanish into the shadows of the forest, but his legs betrayed him, allowing only a feeble step backward.

In the sky, clouds moved with the wind, obscuring the cold moonlight. On the ground, a shadow silently approached from the other side of the hill, enveloping Harry, his friends, and the man.

The two groups stared at each other in the darkness, neither making a move. The ethereal mist that surrounded them seemed to be tainted with a hint of murderous intent.

The eerie silence lasted for a long time, until a cloud in the night sky reluctantly shifted position, allowing moonlight to fall and bathe everything in a shimmering white veil. Only then was the silence broken.

"I thought it would only be Hagrid. How did you three end up here?" Sirius's voice, tinged with a myriad of emotions, cut through the stillness.

For Harry, the encounter with Sirius Black was a moment he had played out in his mind's theater countless times. He had envisioned a confrontation charged with righteous fury, where he would face down the man he believed to be a vile betrayer. In his fantasies, the clash was a decisive one, ending only when one of them fell.

Yet, the lessons imparted by Professor Watson had instilled a more cautious approach. If this alleged murderer were to appear before him, not only could he not win, but he might not even have the courage to act. Bravery could not compensate for lack of strength or experience. The right thing to do was to remain within the safety of the castle's walls, under the watchful eyes of his professors and friends. Even if he did encounter Sirius, he should find a way to escape, because a man who had shown no mercy in severing a deep friendship with Harry's father was unlikely to extend any mercy to Harry himself.

Harry had once accepted Professor Watson's teachings, but today, now that he truly saw the person who had made him an orphan and subjected him to eleven years of humiliation and suffering at the hands of the Dursleys, ignited a fire within him that no amount of rational thought could quench. He couldn't convince himself to hide behind Hagrid.

He thought he would see someone exactly like the picture on the wanted poster - a man broken by torment and madness, wearing tattered prisoner's robes. But the reality before him defied those expectations. 

Sirius Black's appearance was far from disheveled. His gray eyes, though sharp, betrayed a semblance of vitality; his cheeks, though hollow, did not detract from an overall impression of health. 

Especially, he was wearing a robe - not a rag helplessly pulled out of a trash can, but an expensive one that fit his body and reflected a faint light under the moonlight. Wearing that robe, Sirius Black looked like an elegant and normal wizard.

'He actually had time to find himself nice robes?!' Harry thought Sirius Black would be constantly on edge no matter where he hid, but this was the retribution he deserved as a traitor who betrayed his friends and followed Voldemort, but...

A sudden rush of blood to Harry's head blurred his vision, not from exhaustion but from a surge of raw emotion that clouded his senses. In this heightened state, his body acted on pure instinct, bypassing the need for conscious thought. His hand moved of its own accord, driven by a deep-seated yearning for retribution, and his wand was raised.

'Professor Watson, you were wrong about me—'

The incantation for the most devastating curse he knew hovered on the tip of his tongue, but before the words could take flight, a thought flashed through his mind. Then, with a roar that echoed through the forest,

"Canrady Leviosa!"

From Hermione's quiver, an arrow soared skyward, its trajectory swift and true. Emerging from the shroud of night, it sliced through the air with a chilling hiss, homing in on Sirius Black with lethal precision.

Bang!

With a swift, desperate motion, Sirius conjured a barrier, a last-ditch defense against the impending strike. In that moment, a dazzling and mournful spark lit up the Forbidden Forest, followed by the sound of the barrier shattering.

"That was quite a move, Harry. You almost took my life—"

Sirius's breath came in labored gasps, his gaze fixed on Harry, a complex tapestry of emotions playing across his features.

"Of course, I'm not surprised you would do that."

"Don't say my name, scum, you're not worthy!"

Harry's voice thundered through the night, a tempest of fury and contempt. His wand, an extension of his seething wrath, was raised high as he took a step towards Sirius Black. His every fiber vibrated with the intent to close the distance, to confront the source of his deepest anguish, even if it meant courting grave injury or embracing death itself.

Yet, after a mere stride, Harry's advance was abruptly halted. Hagrid's massive hand, a force of nature unto itself, reached out and ensnared him, pulling him back with an unyielding grip. Simultaneously, Hermione and Ron, driven by a shared instinct to protect, clung to him with a desperate embrace—Hermione encircling his waist, Ron seizing his arm. Amidst Harry's frenzied struggle to break free, Hermione's voice pierced the chaos, her plea urgent and clear:

"Don't be impulsive, Harry! Let Hagrid handle this!"

"He killed my parents!" Harry shouted, still struggling.

"Don't let this man taint your hands, Harry, let me handle it."

Hagrid stepped forward, blocking Harry, Ron, and Hermione behind him, and opened his arms like a mother hen protecting her chicks.

While Hagrid and the others stopped Harry from making any attacking moves, Sirius stood with his hands hanging at his sides, without any defensive posture. He just looked at the scene with a face full of sorrow.

"When Harry mentioned that dog might be you, I just took it as a joke. I thought it was just a little boy's wild imagination—"

Finally, after calming down a bit, Hagrid widened his eyes, exuding a fierce aura, and stared at Sirius, as if he was about to rush over and tear him apart.

"I have to say, you're really good at disguises, you despicable traitor. I bet not many people know you're an illegal Animagus, right?"

"Actually, there are a handful who are aware—" Sirius began, his voice tinged with resignation, but he was abruptly silenced by Hagrid's thunderous roar.

"What did you do to that young wizard? Is he dead?"

"Calm down, Hagrid," Sirius urged, his frown deepening, his tone laden with insistence. "The lad named Malfoy just passed out, he's not dead."

"Is that the truth?" 

Regardless, hearing that Malfoy was still alive, Hagrid, as a teacher, felt relieved in his heart, but his tone didn't soften at all.

"This isn't like you, Black. When did you start showing mercy? Did Azkaban soften your heart?"

"Let me explain, Hagrid."

Sirius's forehead showed veins, apparently hurt by Hagrid's words.

"Explain?!" Hagrid's response was a quick shove, his palm striking Harry with such force that it sent him, along with Ron and Hermione, tumbling to the ground. Hagrid's eyes, dark as the abyss, flashed with a fury that could not be contained. In the next breath, he lunged forward, his charge akin to that of a berserk troll, his intent clear and unyielding.

"You really should explain, Black, not to me, but to James and Lily!" Hagrid roared, his voice a clarion call for justice.

"Keep your hands away, Hagrid! Hear me out!" Sirius pleaded, his voice laced with desperation. The sight of a twelve-foot giant barreling forward with reckless abandon was a sight to behold, the pressure of his approach unmatched. Sirius recoiled, but in a heartbeat, Hagrid had closed the gap to a mere thirty feet. It seemed inevitable that in few moments, Hagrid's hand, broad as a barn door, would come crashing down upon Sirius's head. Before things were clarified, Sirius had to consider saving his own life.

"Stop, Hagrid!"

In the oppressive forest, two surprised roars suddenly sounded. Sirius's Stunning spell, intended to incapacitate, harmlessly glanced off Hagrid's resilient hide. From the shadows, a slender rope, swift and serpentine, lashed out, ensnaring Hagrid's legs and sending the gentle giant crashing to the earth with a thunderous impact.

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