0334 Aftermath

The gusty winds of winter had finally relented, ushering in the long-awaited arrival of March. The recent weekend’s Quidditch match could be considered a triumphant redemption for Oliver Wood and the entirety of the resilient Gryffindor Quidditch team members.

As the term started, the Gryffindor squad had emerged victorious against the Ravenclaw team. However, in a surprising turn of events, Ravenclaw had subsequently defeated Hufflepuff, providing the Gryffindors, who had previously suffered a devastating loss the prior term due to the terrifying dementor attack, another coveted opportunity to seize the Quidditch Cup.

This amazing result left an overwhelming majority of the young Gryffindor wizards immersed in an ocean of jubilant joy and celebration. Even Harry had briefly forgotten about the extensive and relentless coverage in the Daily Prophet concerning the ongoing investigation into the unexpected death of that traitorous scoundrel, Peter Pettigrew.

The Monday afternoon’s Potions class, typically a tense and unpleasant affair, was more pleasant and tolerable than usual, perhaps due to the fact that Draco had finally returned to school to attend classes, so Snape didn’t have the mindset to torment Harry too much. The two arduous Potions classes passed peacefully, and when the young wizards eagerly rushed out of the damp, oppressive dungeons onto the expansive grounds, the sky remained brilliantly illuminated by the golden rays of the sun.

The gentle evening breeze of this delightful season had effectively shed winter’s biting chill, with two or three months still remaining before the oppressive heat of summer would descend upon the castle grounds. The temperate climate was utterly comfortable and alluring, prompting many young wizards to seize the opportunity before the evening meal to leisurely stroll through the elegant courtyards, along the tranquil shores of the glistening lake, and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

On the meticulously trimmed lawns, quite a significant number of young wizards had brought their broomsticks to hone their flying skills, harboring aspirations of one day representing their House team in the Quidditch matches.

“Go fetch your Firebolt and Nimbus, Harry, let’s join in!” exclaimed Ron with palpable excitement as the cheerful Gryffindor group stepped out of the grand entrance hall onto the highest step of the majestic marble staircase, overlooking the jubilant scene unfolding on the lush grass lawn, now revitalized by the refreshing spring breeze.

It was quite strange– in the past, whenever the topic of Quidditch arose, Harry’s enthusiasm was unmatched by anyone. However, on this particular occasion, he seemed somewhat disinterested.

“Um – good idea, Ron –”

Harry cast a fleeting glance in the direction of the school gate and absentmindedly uttered, “You know where I keep them, you can go fetch them.”

Ron didn’t realize anything was wrong and happily accepted the proposal. He, accompanied by Seamus and Neville, turned their heads and rushed up the stairs with great enthusiasm. After all, every opportunity to come into direct contact with a world-class broomstick like Firebolt was rare.

Snap!

Hermione, who had been diligently studying since coming from the damp dungeons, closed her book with a resounding snap. She briefly glanced at Harry and inhaled a deep breath of the refreshing evening air.

“Want to chat, Harry?”

“Oh!” Harry was mildly surprised by the unexpected invitation. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?”

Rather than standing dumbly at the entrance, the two descended the steps, circumventing the loud group of young wizards passionately practicing their flying maneuvers on the expansive lawn, and made their way toward the tranquil shore of the lake.

A light, refreshing breeze wandered lazily over the lush grounds. Ripples formed layer upon layer on the vast, glassy surface of the Black Lake, resembling a great, wrinkled golden silk sheet glistening in the dazzling reflection of the setting sun.

They both took a seat on a sizable lump of earth approximately fifty feet from the lakeshore. Hermione retrieved the well-worn book filled with meticulous annotations and began to read carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’ve been reading this particular book quite frequently as of late, what’s it about?” Harry found it a bit strange that Hermione had suggested a casual chat, yet she was now fully immersed in reading a book. So, after a moment’s thought, he decided to start the conversation.

“Simplified Theory of Ancient Spells,” Hermione said, showing him the cover.

“The content is quite profound, especially the annotations, but I’ve started to find it absolutely fascinating recently—”

Hermione brushed away the wayward strands of hair dancing whimsically in front of her eyes and continued calmly.

“Ah, that’s the one Professor Watson gave you—” Harry immediately recalled that this book was a gift from Professor Watson.

Hermione nodded, still focused on the beautiful handwriting in the book, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if she was thinking hard. After a long time, she finally turned to the next page.

“You’ve been out of sorts lately, Harry—” Hermione broached the topic directly, her voice tinged with concern, “Are you still thinking about the dark wizard who killed that traitor?”

Harry pursed his lips and did not immediately provide a response to the probing inquiry.

Well, Hermione’s supposition was not entirely inaccurate, just incomplete. After the unexpected news of Peter Pettigrew’s untimely death was published in the Daily Prophet, the entire Wizarding world, including the once-peaceful grounds of Hogwarts, was immediately plunged into a state of utter turmoil and pandemonium.

Everyone, from the most renowned intellectuals to the humblest of students, were enthusiastically discussing and speculating as to the identity of the individual who could have committed the murder of Peter Pettigrew, who had overnight transitioned from a celebrated war hero to a detested and despised traitor Death-Eater. The most widely accepted and widespread theory circulating was that one of the former fanatical followers of Voldemort, those who had once pledged their unwavering allegiance to his evil cause, had taken their brutal vengeance upon the treacherous rat.

After Voldemort’s catastrophic downfall, the vast majority of his devoted Death Eaters, those who remained fanatically loyal to him, were swiftly detained and imprisoned within the confines of Azkaban prison. Some of the more cunning and duplicitous individuals claimed to have no ties to Voldemort, or asserted that their actions were the result of being placed under the Imperius Curse. A very small number of wizards managed to conceal their allegiance so deeply that their past wrongdoings went entirely undiscovered by the authorities.

Peter had now effectively “replaced” the previously notorious Sirius Black as the most trusted and devoted henchman of the one who shall not be named, and he undoubtedly possessed intimate knowledge of the identities of those individuals who had managed to evade capture. Therefore, after Peter’s arrest, in a desperate bid to receive a more lenient punishment, he was likely to betray them and disclose their identities to the authorities. After all, there existed ample precedent for such betrayals before.

In anticipation of this inevitable outcome, it was only natural for those wizards who had successfully evaded detection to take preemptive measures and eliminate Peter, permanently silencing him before he could implicate them with him.

Peter’s murder on the way to Azkaban was an unmitigated disaster and great humiliation for the Ministry of Magic. It completely shattered the competent and capable image that the Ministry had barely managed to cultivate in the period of the Greyback incident. The Minister of Magic and the other high-ranking officials were completely enraged and vowed to identify and capture the culprit within the span of a month.

However, wizards intimately familiar with the Ministry’s notorious track record of uselessness and incompetence knew that their impressive promises were utterly untrustworthy and dubious at best – this was likely to become yet another unsolved cold case, destined to fall in obscurity among the Ministry’s large archives of failed investigations.

Barty Crouch Sr., on the other hand, managed to emerge relatively unscathed from this fiasco through a unexpected twist of fate.

He was very lucky.

Despite his vital role in in the wrongful imprisonment of Sirius Black in Azkaban, as well as the subsequent barrage of scathing criticism leveled against him, he did not bear the brunt of the blame for this sudden and unexpected incident. Moreover, the “accidental” news that covertly leaked out of the Ministry worked decidedly in his favor, portraying him in a positive light. Barty’s commanding performance during the highly publicized Wizengamot trial had effectively mitigated any significant damage to his reputation. He managed to retain his position as the Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department, and this was one of the reasons why Fudge was furious.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been engaging in speculation during this period, attempting to discern the identity of the person responsible for Peter’s gruesome murder. Their primary suspect was Lucius Malfoy, and as for the reason, they didn’t need any specific evidence. They simply disliked Malfoys. Of course, their eternally sour-faced Potions master was another prime suspect in their minds; how else could one explain Snape’s uncharacteristically ‘pleasant’ demeanor following Peter’s gruesome death?

Harry himself also felt a sense of regret that he did not personally have the opportunity to kill Peter Pettigrew.

Professor Lupin had not returned to Hogwarts since that night. There were already rumors circulating that he could no longer hold his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

This wasn’t too surprising news. In recent years, no professor had stayed in that position for more than a year. However, it was surprising that Professor Lupin had only lasted half a year before encountering misfortune.

The young wizards thought that Professor Watson would step in and take over Professor Lupin’s vacated position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. After all, he had competently substituted for Lupin during the previous term, and had securely held that position for half a year prior to Lupin’s arrival.

However, this was merely idle speculation among the students. Not long after Fenrir Greyback and his pack of werewolves were eradicated, Professor Watson had abruptly departed from Hogwarts, and had yet to return to the castle.

Professor Dumbledore had indeed returned to Hogwarts after those events, but his presence was equally fleeting, as he too had subsequently disappeared from the castle once more, much to the confusion of students and staff.

Though the day-to-day operations and activities at Hogwarts continued to proceed as normal during their respective absences, with classes and extracurricular activities unaffected, Harry till felt something was off. He had the feeling that with just those two gone from Hogwarts, the school seemed half-empty.

Yet Harry kept these unsettling thoughts to himself, unwilling to share his private considerations even with his closest friends; Ron and Hermione. After the Dementor incident the previous term, he had already endured a prolonged period of being branded as a ‘coward’ by his peers, an experience he had no desire to relive again.

“Yes, it is rather puzzling, isn’t it?” Harry sighed, his voice tinged with a tone of little interest.

“I wonder if it was Malfoy’s father who arranged that traitor’s murder. I miss the taste of Polyjuice Potion, Hermione. We should have kept a reserve supply on hand for such emergencies.”

Their previous adventures involving the use of Polyjuice Potion had caused a rather unpleasant experience for Hermione. She glanced up from her book, shooting Harry an irritated glance. She was about to say something when two figures entering her view made the words die in her mouth, her expression turning perplexed.

“Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall?”

Hermione furrowed her brow and stared at the black robes fluttering like bats and the brisk figure, wondering,

“It seems like they’re heading to the Forbidden Forest?”

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