0292 Untimely Topic

In the waning hours of a frostbitten January evening, Harry Potter's silhouette stood motionless at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His eyes, usually a vivid green, were dulled by the weight of disappointment. He had lingered long enough, hope waning like the day's light, for a sign of the person he yearned to see. But as the reality of solitude settled in, he released a heavy sigh that mingled with the cold air, and with a sense of urgency, he and Hermione rushed into the Forbidden Forest.

When they entered the Forbidden Forest earlier in the evening, they were with Hagrid, excited riding on the magical motorcycle. But now, as Harry and Hermione ventured alone into the heart of the forest, the excitement had evaporated, replaced by an oppressive gloom that seemed to feast on their emotions.

Following the footprints left by Sirius and their own memories, it wasn't too difficult to determine the direction. However, the darkness around them seemed to come alive, pressing against the glow of their wands, trying to devour everything. The howling wind in the forest also brought the cries of magical creatures. Despite experiencing enough terror tonight, the two of them were still terrified.

In their haste and focus on the task at hand, Harry and Hermione had neglected a crucial detail. 

Their clothes were already tattered. After entering the hospital wing, they had changed into the robes provided by Madam Pomfrey. But Dumbledore hadn't reminded them to change into more suitable clothes before travelling through Time.

The cold was like a living being, a creeping malaise that sought to leech the warmth from their bones. Initially, Hermione's magic had been a shield against the frigid air, her spells weaving a temporary respite. But as they delved deeper, the relentless cold, coupled with their physical and magical fatigue, gnawed at their resolve, rendering Hermione's enchantments increasingly feeble.

Supporting one another, they navigated a shallow puddle, its icy waters a shock to their system. They emerged on the bank, stomping their feet in a futile attempt to banish the cold that had seeped into their very marrow.

"I envy Ron a bit," Hermione confessed, her breath forming crystalline clouds as she rubbed her hands together for warmth. Her body swayed, a delicate dance with the biting wind. "Mrs. Pomfrey said he was too shocked, and that it's best not to wake him up early."

"Yeah, he's always been lucky," Harry agreed, his voice a low murmur as he bent to clear the clinging water grass from his boots. Then he grabbed Hermione's wrist and struggled to climb up the slope.

Hermione's gaze lingered on the firm grip Harry had on her wrist, a warmth blooming within her that had little to do with their predicament. A small glint sparked in her eyes as she opened a subject far from their current ordeal. "Harry, when I spoke with Ginny earlier, she was quite curious—she wanted to know if you fancied any girl."

The question caught Harry off-guard, his footing faltering, nearly sending him tumbling down. Regaining his balance, he turned to face Hermione, whose suppressed laughter was evident despite her efforts. A flush of embarrassment warmed Harry's cheeks, a stark contrast to the chill of the night.

It wasn't a secret that Ron's sister, Ginny, was infatuated with Harry. After all, Ginny didn't try to hide it.

"What did you tell her, Hermione?" Harry cleared his throat and turned his head, pretending to ask casually.

"You didn't tell me about this, Harry--" Hermione tilted her head, observing Harry's profile, and said with a mix of amusement and sincerity, "Actually, besides Ginny, many girls have asked about this. It's not surprising, is it? Harry, you're quite popular among girls.

"Cough, cough!"

For some reason, a girl's figure suddenly appeared in Harry's mind. She was excellent at Quidditch. Thinking of her, Harry suddenly felt that the cold night wind surrounding him was no longer so icy. In fact, his cheeks were even emitting heat.

At this moment, Harry was extremely grateful for the dim Forbidden Forest. If it were daytime, he didn't know how to explain his embarrassment to Hermione.

A few chuckles and laughs came from behind. Harry finally pulled Hermione up the small slope and took a big step forward, as if trying to distance himself from Hermione. Yet, after a few paces, curiosity got the better of him.

"What about you, Hermione?" Harry turned his head curiously, changing the subject seemingly unintentionally. "What kind of wizard do you like?"

So far, Harry only knew that Hermione had been infatuated with Gilderoy Lockhart, but unfortunately, that guy turned out to be a notorious fraud. Now, the person whose face was emitting heat was Hermione. She stared back at Harry's curious gaze with a strong look, ending this abrupt and untimely topic.

With the urgency of their mission pressing upon them, Harry and Hermione hastened through the Forbidden Forest, the shadows of the trees stretching out like long fingers in the moonlight. Harry's mind was singularly focused on the capture of Peter Pettigrew, the man responsible for betraying his parents. The frivolity of their earlier conversation was cast aside, lost amidst the gravity of their task. Yet, behind him, Hermione's gaze flickered with unspoken thoughts, a silent testament to the complexity of emotions swirling within her.

The typical concerns of third-year Hogwarts students—standing out, excelling in Quidditch, and making a mark like Harry—seemed trivial in comparison to the life-and-death stakes they now faced. Among the girls, discussions of crushes and romantic interests were commonplace. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, ever curious, often engaged in such talks, weaving dreams of love and affection in the quiet of the night. They had not spared Hermione from their inquiries, prodding into the nature of her relationship with Harry, seeking to uncover a hidden romance.

Hermione, for her part, found such conversations frivolous. She didn't even bother to answer such questions. 

Why waste time on idle gossip when one could be studying, learning, and striving for excellence? 

Yet, Harry's unexpected question had stirred something within her, a ripple of emotion that defied her usual practicality.

Every witch at Hogwarts harbored dreams of finding an exceptional wizard partner, and Hermione Granger was no exception. But the fact was, there weren't many outstanding wizards at Hogwarts at the moment, and there was only one in Gryffindor House, Ron's brother, Percy Weasley.

Of course, she didn't narrow her definition of excellence to just being good at studying, but at least, Hermione hoped her partner would have a thirst for knowledge.

A shadow of melancholy crossed Hermione's features as she pondered this. With a deep breath, she pushed these thoughts aside, burying them deep within her heart. Now was not the time for such reflections; survival was paramount.

As they delved deeper into the forest, Harry and Hermione minimized their conversation to conserve energy and avoid drawing the attention of its more dangerous inhabitants. Their progress was slow and arduous, and by the time they neared the battlefield, they were both physically and magically drained, still few hundred meters away from the battlefield, Ahead, the sounds of conflict reached their ears—Fenrir Greyback and his pack of werewolves had already engaged in a fierce battle with Hagrid and the others.

"Harry, the Invisibility Cloak," Hermione whispered urgently, pulling Harry down and draping the silvery fabric over them. 

The two of them crouched and moved forward step by step, careful not to make any noise that might attract attention.

The battlefield was a tableau of chaos and courage. Professor Lupin, wand in hand, fought valiantly to repel Greyback, his spells a beacon of resistance. Professor Snape, his robes floating, wielded his magic with lethal precision, his weird cutting curses slicing through the waves of werewolves. And Sirius, in his Animagus form, battled with a ferocity that matched his canine counterpart.

Despite having lived through these events, the sight of the battle filled Harry and Hermione with a profound sense of helplessness.

"We didn't make a difference, did we?" Harry murmured, the desolation evident in his voice as he peered from behind the cover of a dense maple tree.

"We're just young wizards, Harry. Even for adult wizards, there aren't many who can fight against werewolves," Hermione replied, her eyelashes trembling. She was also watching herself, who was scared and at a loss, standing next to Ron.

"But Professor Watson single-handedly drove away a powerful dark wizard in the Forbidden Forest when he was in fifth year and even fought against Dumbledore." Harry said unwillingly, but he knew deep down that it was an incomparable and unfair situation.

But, It was a comparison that weighed heavily on Harry, a reminder of the vast gulf between their abilities and those of the truly powerful.

Yet, as Ron had envied Harry's natural Quidditch talent and Neville had admired Hermione's academic brilliance, Harry realized that each individual had their own unique strengths. Perhaps combat was simply Professor Watson's forte.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she scanned the forest, her focus settling on a distant point. "The green light—it came from over there," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "We need to get closer, Harry. But we must be cautious; being discovered could be disastrous."

With a nod of agreement, Harry and Hermione resumed their cautious advance, their bodies low to the ground. The rustle of their movement was lost amidst the roars of battle, unnoticed by anyone.

They eventually stopped in a more open area, and at that moment, the werewolf with the missing ear pounced towards Harry. Sirius, disregarding everything, shook off the werewolf that was attacking him and rushed to Harry's aid.

"He really loves you, Harry," Hermione whispered.

Harry silently watched Sirius rush back to help him, feeling a warm current flowing in his chest, warming his heart. Then he clenched his fist, looked away, and with a determined gaze, he stared in the direction where the green light was coming from, as pointed out by Hermione.

….

The events on the battlefield unfolded just as they had in memory. Sirius was surrounded by several werewolves who had immobilized his limbs, ready to tear him apart limb from limb. Hidden in the expanse, Harry and Hermione trembled with tension, holding their breath as they fixated on a densely wooded area. Amidst their heightened alertness, the roars and howls around Harry's ears suddenly vanished, leaving the Forbidden Forest as silent as the depths of the ocean.

They saw it! Harry and Hermione simultaneously spotted a wizard, roughly their height but much fatter than Neville, appearing behind a tree as if he suddenly grew out of the ground.

Illuminated by a sudden flash of green light, Harry could see the man's appearance clearly—his sparse, lusterless hair was a mess, with a bald patch on top of his head, and his ugly face, with its pointed nose and beady eyes, still bore distinct rat-like features.

History remained unchanged.

Peter's killing curse was blocked by Snape, leaving him with a face full of astonishment, seemingly unable to accept his own failure.

Harry excitedly rose to his feet, but Hermione quickly held down his head to prevent it from being exposed from under the invisibility cloak.

"Wait, Harry, we can't show ourselves here!" Hermione said urgently.

Harry stared at the short figure in the woods, and for the first time since his birth to now, he felt so much hatred for someone that it dyed his green eyes with a tinge of red.

'Leave this scene,'

Peter's reaction was quick. While everyone was still shocked by the unforgivable curse that had been used, he realized that he had no chance of finishing off Sirius tonight. He turned around, shrank his body, and transformed into a rat, disappearing into the layers of fallen leaves. 

As he did so, Harry and Hermione immediately stood up under the invisibility cloak, their gaze locked on the rustling leaves as they darted out like rabbits.

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