0288 Return?

The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere charged with a palpable sense of dread and regret. Sirius’s eyes, usually a piercing grey, were now clouded with a storm of emotions, twitching uncontrollably as the weight of his past decisions bore down on him. The choice to make Peter Pettigrew the secret-keeper for the Potters had been a catastrophic error, one that haunted him every night. And now, Severus Snape, with his sadistic wit and venomous words, was twisting the knife deeper into Sirius’s already festering wound.

Amidst the chaos, a voice of calm emerged. “Good luck, Harry Potter,” Firenze said to harry. With a nod from the centaur, his brethren silently acknowledged the gravity of the moment and dispersed, their hooves beating a soft rhythm on the forest floor as they formed a protective circle around the idling motorcycle.

Sirius, his hands trembling slightly, reached out to caress the dashboard of the motorcycle, a relic from a time that seemed like a distant memory. His fingers grazed the buttons, each touch a hesitant question, each flicker of the dashboard lights a cryptic response. “I never thought I’d have a chance to ride this again,” he murmured, his voice a complex tapestry of sorrow, nostalgia, and a faint glimmer of hope.

“Oh, are you planning to leave like this?”

The scene, however, was not lost on Fenrir Greyback, whose cruel smile was a stark contrast to the somber mood. His eyes, gleaming with malice, were fixed on the group, particularly on the young wizards from Hogwarts who were preparing to seek reinforcements. He wouldn’t let Sirius and the few young brats go to Hogwarts for reinforcements. Especially not with the infamous Harry Potter among them, who was the most important bargaining chip in negotiations with Dumbledore.

With a swift and brutal motion, Greyback seized Remus Lupin by the neck, his grip ironclad, his wrist flicking with contempt as if he were displaying a piece of worthless trash. “You are friends with this traitor, right?” he sneered at Sirius, his voice dripping with disdain. “If you dare to escape, I’ll snap his throat!”

The threat ignited a fire in Sirius’s eyes, a blaze of anger that threatened to consume him. “Let go of Remus, you despicable beast!” he roared, his body tensed, ready to leap off the motorcycle and confront the werewolf. But before he could act, a sudden clang resonated through the air, a harbinger of unexpected intervention. 

A cold light flashed, leaving a silver trail etched into the retinas of all who witnessed it. In an instant, Greyback recoiled, clutching his arm and cursing vehemently as he staggered backward. Lupin, now in his werewolf form, collapsed to the ground.

“Take them away quickly!” Hagrid shouted, his voice booming he discarded his crossbow and charged headlong into the pack. The werewolves, their eyes alight with bloodlust, surged forward, but Greyback’s obsession with using Lupin as leverage was undeterred. He lunged for the semi-conscious werewolf, determined to reclaim his hostage. Yet, the centaurs were not idle spectators; their spears, swift and unerring, flew like arrows, crossing the distance in a heartbeat and pinning werewolves near Greyback to the earth, forcing him into a grudging retreat.

Lupin, dazed and disoriented, struggled to his feet. His gaze flitted between the spear that lay discarded by his claw and the retreating form of Greyback. A series of fearful whimpers escaped his lips before he vanished into the impenetrable darkness, his presence erased from sight as if swallowed by the night itself.

Boom!

The ensuing battle between werewolves and centaurs was of primal fury. The air was filled with the sounds of roars, the rending of flesh, and the death cries of the fallen. Snape, his complexion ashen, once again conjured his signature spell, severing a leaping werewolf in mid-air. The creature’s blood rained down in a bloody shower.

Snape stared at Sirius intently, and Sirius knew exactly what Snape wanted to express. He angrily glared in the direction Lupin had disappeared, and shouted, “Hold on, Remus! I’ll bring help soon!”

The roar of the motorcycle drowned out the noise of the battlefield. 

“Stop them!”

Greyback’s furious command to stop them was drowned out by the mechanical beast’s growl. 

Amidst the increasingly loud rumbling, the exhaust pipe suddenly spewed blue and white flames. Hermione, sitting behind Sirius, let out a short, piercing scream.

With a sudden surge, the motorcycle reared up, its front wheel lifting off the ground. Harry, his senses overwhelmed, barely registered their ascent as they soared thirty feet into the air, the motorcycle accelerating towards Hogwarts with a fierce determination.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh…

Behind them, the werewolves gave chase, their forms a blur as they navigated the vine-entangled forest. Yet, their numbers dwindled with each passing moment, and soon, only a solitary werewolf persisted in pursuit. Seizing an opportunity, the creature leaped from a horizontally growing branch, its claws latching onto the sidecar’s bracket with a desperate tenacity.

“Canrady Leviosa!” The words burst from Harry’s lips in a terrified scream. Harry’s wand was a blur of motion, and the shattered side mirror of the motorcycle became an impromptu weapon, sweeping across the werewolf’s outstretched arm.

ROAR!!!!

A roar of agony filled the air as the werewolf was forcibly dislodged, its arm severed by the improvised spell. The creature plummeted to the ground, its howl fading into the distance, a stark reminder of the brutal reality they faced.

Ron, his arms trembling with the effort to support Draco Malfoy, was suddenly drenched in a warm, scarlet spray. The blood, belonging to a werewolf whose arm had been severed moments before, splattered across his face and robes, its coppery scent filling the air. With a gasp, Ron’s eyes rolled back, and he slumped over, unconscious, mirroring Malfoy’s prone form in the sidecar.

“Well done, Harry!” Sirius Black’s voice cut through the chaos, his tone laced with pride as he glanced over at his godson. Harry, however, could only manage a tight-lipped nod in response. His gaze was fixed on the werewolf’s dismembered limb that lay grotesquely in Ron’s grasp, and his hand, the one clutching his wand, shook with an uncontrollable tremor. He heard Hermione sobbing softly between him and Sirius, but he had no words to comfort her. He could only pat her thin shoulder in silence.

The explosions and flashes on the battlefield behind them were still vivid in the night. Harry’s cheek, smeared with his own blood, twitched involuntarily as he turned to stare at the carnage they had narrowly escaped. 

When last summer, Professor Watson had taken him to that evil underground cave, Harry realized that the wizarding world was not a fairy tale world. But tonight, he truly witnessed the cruelty of the battlefield- the werewolves’s tragic demise, the uncertainty of Professor Lupin’s fate-

In a daze, Harry remembered what Professor Watson had taught them.

Power is a very real thing and cannot be changed by personal will alone.

Harry’s thoughts drifted to his first year at Hogwarts, to the secret underground chamber where he had faced Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort. Back then, armed with nothing but sheer determination, Harry had managed to thwart Voldemort’s scheme to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone. Quirrell, unable to lay a finger on him, had been defeated by a power that Harry had not understood at the time.

Professor Dumbledore had later explained that it was his mother’s love that had left a mark upon him and being deeply loved by someone, even if that person had died, would leave us with an eternal protective charm.

Harry thought that mark was his scar, but it wasn’t. Professor Dumbledore said it was invisible, hidden beneath the skin.

“Maybe it’s only useful against Voldemort—” Harry muttered to himself, his voice lost to the howling winds that whipped around them, unheard by his companions.

Harry was lost in thought and didn’t notice that the trajectory of the motorcycle’s flight was no longer as stable as before. It was going up and down like a stone skipping across water.

“B- Mr. Black—” Hermione’s voice was tinged with panic as her face was lashed by a flurry of leaves. Through the fragmented reflection of the shattered rearview mirror, she caught sight of Sirius’s face, paler than snow against the backdrop of the night sky. With a jolt of alarm, she realized that Sirius’s robe was soaked in blood..

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Sirius looked a bit dazed, as if waking up from a nap. His tone was somewhat surprised.

“Um, you, I mean, you look a bit exhausted—” Hermione stammered, her worry for Sirius evident.

After twelve years in Azkaban, the first wizard Sirius encountered upon his release was Bryan Watson. He had forgotten what it felt like to be respected. Hermione’s respectful address made him feel somewhat awkward. After a brief silence, Sirius smiled, about to say something, but a rumbling noise from a few miles away interrupted him.

“What is that!” The recent brutal war had left Harry’s nerves on edge, and he shouted loudly.

The rumbling sound sounded familiar to Harry, but for a moment, he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before.

“No matter what it is!” Sirius said with a hint of weakness in his voice, “We’d better avoid it now.”

He spun the handle, and the motorcycle roared off, the oncoming wind blocking Harry’s mouth. However, the rhythmic rumbling didn’t fade but approached at an unsettling speed.

Now, Hogwarts Castle loomed larger in their sight, standing silent on the high ground. Harry and Hermione unconsciously relaxed, a sense of safety welling up inside them.

But before they could fully enjoy the joy of surviving the ordeal, Sirius’s head suddenly drooped, and the motorcycle lost control plunging uncontrollably toward the ground. At the same time, the blood moon in the sky vanished, and a visible chill filled the air.

Crack! Boom! Snap!

Before Harry and Hermione could react, the motorcycle, thirty feet above the ground, plummeted down and crashed heavily onto the ground, accompanied by the grating sound of metal bending and the snapping of trees. Ron and Malfoy were thrown out and disappeared into a ravine on a small hillock.

Hermione had been tightly holding onto Sirius’s robes, so when they landed, with Sirius acting as a cushion, her injuries were not severe.

However, the force of the impact caused Hermione to roll on the ground several times. Finally, her head hit a bare stone protruding from the earth, and with a muffled groan, she fell silent.

Harry was the least injured among them, thanks to his skills as an excellent Seeker. A dive from such similar angles were nothing to him, and he was adept at protecting himself in such accidents.

As the front of the motorcycle collided with the ground, Harry used the force to propel himself forward. In mid-air, he adjusted his posture, protecting his head with his arms and curling up into a ball. After rolling five or six times on the leaf-covered ground, he finally regained control of his body.

Harry’s face was buried in the damp, cold, and foul-smelling leaves. His hair was covered in dirt and grass, and his robes were torn and scattered by branches on the ground. Waves of exhaustion surged through his mind, using darkness as a medium, repeatedly impacting his consciousness. If possible, Harry wished he could just pass out, but he couldn’t rest because of Hermione, Ron, and Sirius’s safety.

“Mmm!”

Harry gritted his teeth and knelt on the ground, supporting his body with his arms. The soreness and pain in his body blurred his consciousness for a few seconds. It wasn’t until warm, moist blood seeped out of his nostrils and his dry lips felt a tangy sweetness that Harry regained his clarity.

Looking around, Ron and Malfoy had disappeared, rolling who knows where. Harry found Malfoy’s dropped Nimbus 2001 on the hillside.

The front of the motorcycle was embedded in the ground, while the heavy body was pressing on Sirius’s chest. In the dimming moonlight, Harry noticed that Sirius’s chest had caved in, indicating that his ribs were definitely broken, but he didn’t know how many.

“Hermione–“

Harry muttered weakly, attempting to stand up several times. However, his body and mind couldn’t support him to complete the action, so he had no choice but to crawl towards Hermione on all fours.

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