CHAPTER 62: UNSPOKEN CONFESSIONS

As he ascended the stairs back to the Gryffindor common room, Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows of their past were closing in. But he also felt a glimmer of hope; if he could face Snape down, maybe he could also rally the rest of the professors and the students against whatever darkness threatened to rise.

Fleur approached quietly, not wanting to startle Hermione. She could sense the tension in the air and wondered what was weighing on her friend's mind.

"Hey, Hermione," Fleur said gently, settling down on her own bed across from her. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione looked up, startled for a moment before giving a small smile. "Oh, Fleur. I didn't hear you come in." She paused, biting her lip as she shifted her gaze back to the floor. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot about everything that's happening… with Harry, the prophecy, and the looming threat of Voldemort."

Fleur nodded, understanding all too well how heavy those thoughts could be. "It's a lot to carry, especially for someone as young as Harry. But he's not alone in this, and neither are we. We all have our roles to play."

"I know," Hermione replied, her brow furrowed. "But sometimes it feels like the weight of it all is crushing. I keep thinking about how many lives are at stake and how much responsibility is on Harry's shoulders. I can't help but feel… helpless."

Fleur reached out, her voice firm yet comforting. "You are anything but helpless, Hermione. You've always been a key part of Harry's support system. Your knowledge and intuition are invaluable. Remember how you helped us during the Triwizard Tournament? Your quick thinking made a difference."

A flicker of confidence returned to Hermione's eyes. "I just wish I could do more. It's like every time I think we're making progress, something else comes up, and I feel like we're just treading water."

"That's the reality of it, I suppose. But we must focus on what we can control. Harry needs our support, and he needs us to believe in him, even when things look grim." Fleur leaned in, her expression earnest. "We will find ways to help him, together."

Hermione nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing a little. "You're right. I just need to remember that we're all in this together. And maybe I should talk to Harry more about what I'm feeling. He's been under so much pressure, but he also cares about how we're coping."

"Exactly," Fleur said, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Communication is key. We can't carry this burden alone."

As the two friends continued to talk, the atmosphere in the room lightened. They discussed strategies, plans, and their hopes for the future. In that moment, Fleur felt a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that they could face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

Eventually, as the conversation began to wind down, Hermione glanced at the clock and sighed. "I should get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow, and I want to be ready."

"Of course," Fleur agreed, stifling a yawn herself. "Good night, Hermione. We'll face whatever comes next together."

"Good night, Fleur," Hermione replied, a small smile on her face as she turned off her bedside lamp.

With that, both girls nestled into their beds, the weight of their shared concerns momentarily lifted, replaced by the comforting knowledge that they had each other to lean on in the face of the storm to come. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, felt cozy despite the turbulent emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

"Hermione," Fleur announced brightly as she stepped fully into the room, her presence radiating an aura of lightness.

Hermione jumped up from the bed, her heart racing, as if she'd been caught in the act of some clandestine activity. The look on Fleur's face, a mix of mischief and delight, made her roll her eyes. "You didn't have to scare the life out of me, you know!" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

Fleur leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms playfully. "I wouldn't have if you had been paying attention to the world around you," she teased gently, her voice a melodic lilt that filled the room. "But really, what is bothering you, Hermione? You've been like this for quite some time now."

A deep blush crept across Hermione's cheeks, the embarrassment flooding her system. "Has it been that obvious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the hint of vulnerability unmistakable.

"To me, perhaps," Fleur replied, her tone softening. "But then again, we've become so close that I notice things long before others do. I think Harry might have picked up on it too, but he's far too polite to say anything."

Hermione took a deep breath, visibly straightening her posture as determination flickered in her eyes. She met Fleur's gaze directly, a spark of resolve igniting within her. "Do you remember what we talked about before coming to Hogwarts?"

Fleur's expression shifted to one of cautious curiosity. "About Harry?" she asked, her voice steady yet filled with anticipation.

"Yes," Hermione said, her tone firm yet tinged with apprehension. "I've come to a decision. I want to take you up on your offer."

A bright smile blossomed on Fleur's face, but a shadow of caution lingered in her eyes. "That's wonderful, but have you discussed this with your parents?"

Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I haven't yet, but I know I will have to eventually. They'll support me, I'm sure, but it will definitely be a shock to them. That's why I want to take this slowly."

"How slowly?" Fleur asked, her tone blunt but laced with genuine concern.

"I don't have a set timeline or anything," Hermione replied, a wry grin creeping onto her face despite the seriousness of the conversation. "I just want to give myself a chance to get used to it—and not overwhelm Harry either. Let's keep this between us for now, alright?"

Fleur nodded, but her brow furrowed slightly. "But it's not fair to Harry for us to be plotting behind his back. He deserves to know what's going on."

"I don't want to plot," Hermione countered, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "It's just that Harry has so much happening right now. I don't think it's fair to dump everything on him at once. This needs to be handled delicately—he doesn't even know he can have more than one wife! And honestly, we don't even know if he'll be open to the idea."

Fleur regarded Hermione thoughtfully, her expression softening. "I understand, but you should also think about what you want. This is about you too, not just about Harry."

Hermione nodded slowly, the weight of Fleur's words settling in. "You're right. It's just… I've never been in a situation like this before. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not Harry."

Fleur reached out, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Whatever you decide, I'm here for you. We'll navigate this together."

With a grateful smile, Hermione felt a renewed sense of hope. "Thank you, Fleur. I don't know what I'd do without you."

They shared a moment of silence, the bond between them deepening, before Fleur broke it with a light-hearted remark. "Now, shall we plot some mischief to lighten the mood?"

Hermione laughed, the sound ringing with warmth and relief. "That sounds like a plan!"

Fleur's expression shifted as she sensed Hermione's underlying concerns. "Oh, I know what you've said about his feelings," Hermione continued, pressing on before Fleur could interrupt. "And I do think he fancies me to a certain extent. But he might find the idea of two wives distasteful. I just don't want to set myself up to be hurt."

Fleur gazed at her friend with understanding mixed with a resolute determination. Harry deserved to know about this, and keeping him in the dark felt wrong. "Don't you think that the love and support of his closest friend would be a great asset to him?"

"Yes, it would. But we have to be careful—not only for his feelings, but for mine too." Hermione's voice wavered slightly, revealing her anxiety.

Fleur considered Hermione's words, nodding slowly. It was easy to agree with her logic, yet the truth remained that Harry needed to be told soon. "I do not think that Harry is as clueless as you seem to think. If we presented this in a memorable sort of way, I believe he would be open to it."

"Memorable is good," Hermione replied, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "I assume you have something in mind?"

With a wicked grin, Fleur settled onto the bed beside Hermione. "Oh, I think I do! Picture this: a small gathering, perhaps during one of our study sessions. We could create an atmosphere that's both inviting and intimate."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And then what? Just spring it on him?"

"Exactly!" Fleur laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. "We'll craft a little scenario. Maybe I could 'accidentally' drop a hint, and then you could swoop in with the real idea. It'll be like a play, and he won't see it coming."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with amusement. "That could be fun! Just think of his face when he realizes what we're getting at!"

The next day, Sirius found himself in a similar situation, though his mind was far from the playful schemes of his friends. He struggled to concentrate on his classes, the vibrant energy of teaching dimmed by the weight of his thoughts. Meeting the students and engaging with the material had always brought him joy, yet now, a fog hung over him.

His confrontation with Snape from the previous day echoed in his mind. The words he'd spoken hadn't been mere bravado; something about the entire situation—the prophecy, Voldemort's return, the attack on the Potters, and Dumbledore's insistence on keeping Snape at Hogwarts despite the evident drawbacks—troubled him deeply. The fact that he couldn't quite articulate his feelings only fueled his frustration.

One thing was certain in Sirius's mind: Snape was somehow complicit in the Potters' betrayal or their death, regardless of whether the Death Eater had intended for them to be killed. The mere thought of Snape's involvement sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't imagine that Snape would wish for James's death, even if he had chosen the dark path of Voldemort's follower.

James, however, was another story. Sirius clenched his jaw at the thought of Snape's potential glee at James's demise. He imagined Snape, pumping his fist in triumph, perhaps even dancing on James's grave—grinning from ear to ear, all the while scheming to "comfort" Lily as she mourned.

Privately, Sirius felt that Snape fancied himself in love with Lily, yet he was certain that Snape was the kind of person who could only ever truly love himself. The notion gnawed at Sirius as he forced himself to engage with the class, a growing storm of anger and betrayal swirling within him. Each attempt to focus on the lesson felt like wading through thick mud, his thoughts continually drifting back to the troubling events that had transpired.

But something was off about the whole situation. Try as he might, Sirius could not fathom how Snape could have engineered the Potters' downfall. The prophecy had been known well before that fateful night in October when he had lost two of his closest friends. Dumbledore had taken James and Lily aside to explain its implications the moment he understood them, and James had been quick to share the news with his friends. It had been one of the primary reasons why Lily and James had agreed to his insistence on going into hiding.

Sirius clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. The fact that Voldemort had chosen to target the Potters seemed to be pure chance. Dumbledore had told Harry many things, but the reality was that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been just as much of a thorn in Voldemort's side. It was entirely possible that the Dark Lord had intended to kill both Harry and Neville the same night, though it seemed unlikely. They knew Voldemort had managed to compromise the Potters' secret keeper, but the Longbottoms' secret keeper had remained unbreached until after Voldemort's downfall.

What truly puzzled Sirius was how Snape fit into the entire picture. Had he urged Voldemort to attack the Potters, asking him to spare Lily's life? It was certainly a possibility, but several problems arose from that line of thinking. First and foremost, Voldemort was not known for taking advice from anyone, not even his most trusted advisors. The thought that he would heed the counsel of a relatively new follower—a Halfblood, no less—seemed far-fetched.

Or had Snape somehow facilitated Pettigrew's betrayal? Again, it seemed unlikely. Snape had loathed the Marauders, and Sirius doubted he would have known that it was Peter, not himself, who had become the secret keeper. He and James had shared that information with no one after they made the switch.

What else could Snape have had to do with the Potters' betrayal? Unfortunately, Sirius couldn't think of anything, and it gnawed at him. The answer seemed like it should be clear, yet clarity remained elusive. He needed more time to ponder the matter. Perhaps something would jog his memory, and the answer would materialize. Some of the patience he had learned in Azkaban would certainly be required.

It was late afternoon before Dumbledore returned from his ICW duties, and as Sirius was busy with his classes, he didn't have a chance to voice his concerns until after dinner that evening. He found the Headmaster in his office, surrounded by a cascade of shimmering scrolls and half-finished reports.

"Ah, Sirius," Dumbledore greeted, looking up with a twinkle in his eye. "What brings you here this evening?"

"Headmaster," Sirius began, his voice tight with urgency. "I need to talk to you about Snape."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, his hand gliding down his long, flowing beard. "He's reverted, has he?"

Sirius nodded, feeling the weight of his concerns press heavier. "I can't say I'm surprised. He's behaved quite well for the past several months, but I always knew it wouldn't last. It seems that hiring me for the Defense post has pushed him over the edge."

"So McGonagall was right?" Sirius queried, crossing his arms as he leaned against Dumbledore's desk. "Snape covets the Defense post?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. "His ambition is not easily quelled. He believes himself entitled to positions of influence, despite the cost. This latest incident may be a reflection of deeper issues—resentment, perhaps, over his own choices and the paths that others have taken."

Sirius felt a rush of frustration. "It's not just that, Dumbledore. I have a gut feeling there's more to it. I can't shake the thought that he's somehow involved in the Potters' deaths. The pieces just don't fit, and it's driving me mad."

Dumbledore regarded Sirius with a mix of concern and understanding. "Sometimes the truth hides in the shadows, Sirius. But we must tread carefully. The answers will reveal themselves in time."

"But what if we don't have time?" Sirius pressed, his voice rising. "What if there's something we're missing that could put Harry in danger?"

"We will do everything in our power to protect Harry," Dumbledore assured him, his tone steady. "But we must also allow events to unfold naturally. Trust in the process, my dear friend."

Sirius let out a frustrated sigh, the storm within him refusing to abate. "Fine, but I won't stop looking for answers. I owe it to James and Lily."

Dumbledore nodded, the weight of shared grief evident in his gaze. "And I, too, will support your quest for clarity. Together, we will seek the truth."

"He does," was Dumbledore's simple confirmation. "He has pressed me for the Defense position every time I must find a new professor, which, regrettably, has become an annual occurrence. In recent years, he has grown increasingly insistent. I have put him off each time, as his strengths lie primarily in potions. However, I may unfortunately have to accept his offer if it continues to be so challenging to find a Defense professor."

"You don't need to worry about that," Sirius stated definitively, leaning forward with conviction. "I can continue to teach, at least until Harry graduates. After that, you might need to find someone new, but until then, I will stay on."

"That is very much appreciated, Sirius," Dumbledore replied, a hint of relief washing over his features.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm not doing this only for you or the school. I want to remain close to Harry, and this gives me that chance. Besides, whatever Snape feels about his qualifications, he is most certainly not fit to be the Defense instructor."

"I think you underestimate him," Dumbledore countered, his voice calm yet firm.

"And I'm certain that I don't," Sirius shot back, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "He's a talented—even gifted—potions master, but you forget that I grew up with him. He was never anything more than an average student in Defense. Now, with Voldemort stirring up trouble again, it's more critical than ever that the children receive a solid education in that subject. I intend to make sure they do."

Dumbledore nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, yet he chose not to respond. He likely still believed he was right about Snape, but Sirius was unwilling to budge in this argument. He felt justified, and deep down, he knew it.

"That brings us back to Snape's anger towards me," Sirius continued, frustration coloring his tone. "He has always coveted the Defense position, and suddenly, in the middle of the school year, I waltz in and take over. And to top it off, he despises me and resents my very presence in the castle."

Albus's tone turned gently remonstrative. "There is some justification for his feelings, Sirius."

Sirius waved the Headmaster off impatiently. "I'm well aware of my failings and how I behaved as a teenager. What concerns me is that while I have grown and matured, it appears your Potions professor has not. His persecution of Harry must stop, Dumbledore. If it doesn't, then he has to go."

"I understand your point, Sirius," Dumbledore replied with a sigh, his expression a mix of sympathy and caution. "I have managed to blunt the worst of his excesses over the years since he joined this faculty, but he has become more difficult to control since Harry began attending. He has always treated Gryffindor with a certain contempt, but Harry has become particularly targeted."

"Excesses?" Sirius demanded, disbelief etched on his features. "What are you talking about?"

Dumbledore met his gaze, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "There have been incidents, Sirius—slight but troubling. Comments made during class, an apparent bias in grading, and a reluctance to offer assistance when it's needed. The subtlety of his malice is perhaps what makes it more concerning."

Sirius felt a surge of anger. "That's not just subtlety, Albus! It's a pattern! This is about Harry's safety and well-being. If Snape is unable to separate his past grudges from his responsibilities as a teacher, then he should not be in that position."

Dumbledore nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You make valid points, and I will monitor the situation closely. But we must also be cautious. A hasty decision could have unforeseen consequences."

Sirius crossed his arms, his resolve hardening. "Then I'll keep my eyes open. If I see any further signs of his bias, I won't hesitate to bring it to your attention. Harry deserves better than a professor who lets personal vendettas cloud his judgment."

"Agreed," Dumbledore replied, his gaze steady. "And remember, Sirius, we are on the same side in this. The safety of our students is paramount."

Sirius nodded, a fierce determination igniting within him. "Then let's make sure it stays that way."

Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression contemplative. "Severus has always been quite… liberal in deducting points from other houses, particularly from Gryffindor. He rarely awards points to anyone, even his own students, which has somewhat mitigated the problem. As I mentioned to Harry earlier this year, I review every point deduction he issues and will adjust them if I deem them unwarranted. Until Harry arrived, this was much less of an issue. Admittedly, it may have influenced the House Cup in Slytherin's favor if left unchecked, but I have done my best to avoid that."

Sirius furrowed his brow, considering Dumbledore's words. "But why are you willing to overlook this behavior? Why is it so critical that he remains in the castle?" He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, the corners of his mouth tightening. "His value as a spy is beyond measure, Sirius."

Sirius snorted in disbelief. "I think you're overestimating his worth—he doesn't seem to have done much for our cause, to be honest. Yes, you've helped him be a little fairer to the students, but the fact remains they're receiving a substandard education under his tutelage. 'Instructions are on the board. Begin!' is hardly a stellar teaching method. And how can you be sure he's loyal? If his attitude is any indication, I doubt he's given up the dogma he embraced. He's perfectly positioned to play both sides to ensure he comes out on top."

The effect of Sirius's statements was almost instantaneous—Dumbledore's eyes flashed, and his face fell into a mask of disapproval. The gentle grandfatherly demeanor that usually graced the Headmaster's features was replaced by an intensity that reminded Sirius why Dumbledore was one of the most feared and respected wizards in the world.

"Do not insult my intelligence, Sirius," Dumbledore snapped, his voice steady but laced with an underlying steel. "I am far from foolish and am more than capable of ensuring that one man remains loyal. You may not understand the intricacies of the situation, but I assure you, I have my reasons for keeping Severus in the fold."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond but paused, seeing the depth of Dumbledore's conviction. The tension in the room thickened, charged with the weight of their differing views. "I just can't shake the feeling that you're taking a dangerous gamble," Sirius said finally, his voice more measured but no less passionate. "What happens if he turns on us? What if he has already? Can we really afford to trust him when everything is at stake?"

Dumbledore sighed, the weight of the world evident in his expression. "Trust is a fragile thing, Sirius. But in war, sometimes we must make difficult choices. Severus has risks and burdens of his own, and while I do not condone his past actions, I believe he is trying to atone for them in his own way."

Sirius felt a surge of frustration. "And what about Harry? What about the students? They shouldn't have to bear the consequences of your strategic decisions."

"I understand your concern for Harry," Dumbledore replied, his tone softening slightly. "And I share it. However, we must also be vigilant and pragmatic. If Severus can be turned towards our cause, he may prove to be an invaluable asset."

Sirius shook his head, unconvinced. "I hope you know what you're doing, Albus. But I won't stand idly by while Snape continues to undermine Harry and his friends."

Dumbledore met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "I value your loyalty and your willingness to protect those you care for. But trust that I am watching Severus closely. If he steps out of line, I will not hesitate to take action."

Sirius nodded, though unease gnawed at him. "I just hope it doesn't come to that."

While Dumbledore's displeasure was formidable, Sirius was not one to be intimidated. "How so?" he pressed, arms crossed defiantly.

"I cannot be explicit," the Headmaster replied evenly, his voice a calm counterpoint to Sirius's agitation. "As it would betray certain confidences. But I can tell you that I have bound Severus to me and to the light with unbreakable chains. He is incapable of acting against the interests of the light, and beyond that, he has a powerful motivation to comply."

The way Dumbledore spoke suggested something akin to an Unbreakable Vow. Sirius's skepticism flared; he was certain Dumbledore wouldn't have put such trust in Snape, nor would Snape agree to it willingly. That left the possibility of a life debt or some form of magical oath, but how Dumbledore could have gotten Snape to agree to such a bond was beyond Sirius. Still, the Headmaster's conviction was palpable, leaving little room for opposition.

"Very well, but you cannot expect me to suddenly trust him," Sirius replied, the edge in his voice betraying his discomfort. He was aware that further argument would only serve to heighten tensions.

"No, I am certain that your mistrust is far too ingrained for that," Dumbledore conceded, his tone softening. "All I ask is that you attempt to behave civilly with each other. I will speak to Severus again and direct him to rein in his inclination to persecute Harry."

Dumbledore took a deep breath, fixing Sirius with a steady gaze that conveyed the seriousness of his intent. "I want you to understand that I do not take this lightly. I have often considered removing Severus when his actions were particularly egregious and indefensible."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore continued, his voice firm, filled with conviction. "But I must warn you that I will do anything to ensure that Voldemort is defeated." The weight of his words hung in the air, a palpable reminder of the stakes at hand. "If Voldemort prevails in this struggle, Britain—and indeed possibly the entire world—may enter an age so dark that it may never recover. Every time I think of dismissing Severus, I envision a world under Voldemort's rule. I will not leave an arrow in my quiver unloosed, especially one as important and potentially devastating as Severus may turn out to be. A substandard education in Potions pales in significance to the world I foresee should Voldemort win."

Sirius felt the gravity of Dumbledore's words but remained unconvinced. "Very well," he said, rising to leave. He paused, then turned back to Dumbledore, his voice dropping to a low, implacable tone. "But I will warn you—I suspect that Snape had a hand in what happened to James and Lily. If I ever confirm my suspicions, I will have justice."

"Don't do anything rash, Sirius," Dumbledore cautioned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That is all I ask."

Sirius nodded tightly, a storm of emotions churning within him. "I can't promise anything. Not when it comes to their memory."

Dumbledore sighed, the weight of the conversation settling heavily between them. "I understand your anger, but remember that vengeance can often lead us down a dark path. We must focus on the greater good."

With a final nod, Sirius turned and strode out of the office, determination fueling his steps. There was much to contemplate, and he needed to ensure he considered every angle.

As he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, shadows flickered in the corners of his mind—memories of laughter, of friends lost, of promises made. He would do whatever it took to protect Harry, to uncover the truth, and to ensure that the past did not repeat itself.

As Sirius navigated the familiar stone corridors of Hogwarts, memories of his youth flooded back—adventures with James, the laughter of the Marauders echoing off the walls, the warmth of friendship that felt so distant now. Each step reminded him of the weight he carried, not only for his lost friends but for Harry, who was caught in the crossfire of a war that had started long before he was born.

He paused in front of a large window, gazing out at the grounds where students were scattered about, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him. "What kind of world are we leaving them?" he muttered under his breath. The beauty of the castle seemed almost mocking, a reminder of what was at stake.

As he turned away from the window, he spotted Hermione and Fleur walking down the hallway, their heads close together in deep conversation. Fleur looked animated, gesturing with her hands, while Hermione wore a thoughtful expression, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Sirius hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, but curiosity tugged at him.

"Hey, you two!" he called, quickening his pace to catch up with them.

Both girls turned, and Hermione's expression shifted to one of relief. "Sirius! We were just talking about you."

Fleur smiled mischievously. "Indeed, I think we have a plan that involves your favorite student."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Harry? What kind of plan?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Fleur, then took a deep breath. "It's about Harry's feelings… and mine."

Fleur added, "We think it might be time to open up a little, give him a chance to understand what we want."

Sirius's heart sank slightly at the mention of feelings, knowing all too well the complications that could arise. "Just be careful, okay? Harry has enough on his plate right now. We don't want to overwhelm him."

"We understand," Hermione said, her voice steady. "But we believe he deserves to know he's not alone in this. He has friends who care about him."

"Right," Sirius replied, running a hand through his hair. "Just… make sure he knows that you're here for him. Whatever happens, don't let him feel like he has to choose."

Fleur nodded, her expression serious for a moment. "We won't. We want to support him, not add to his burdens."

Sirius felt a flicker of gratitude for their intentions, even as doubt lingered. "Good. Just remember, Harry can be a bit… unpredictable when it comes to his emotions. He might not react the way you expect."

Hermione smiled softly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "That's what we're counting on. A little unpredictability might be just what he needs."

Sirius chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Alright then, just keep me in the loop. I want to help however I can."

As they parted ways, Sirius felt a renewed sense of purpose. If Harry could find solace in friendships, perhaps it would help him navigate the storm looming on the horizon.

Later that evening, as he prepared for his next class, Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was about to unfold. The shadows of the past were closing in, and he knew that time was running out. He took a deep breath, centering himself, reminding himself of the duty he had to protect Harry and his friends.

In the classroom, students filed in, and Sirius put on his best smile, ready to engage them in the wonders of Defense Against the Dark Arts. As he launched into a lesson on counter-curses, his mind wandered back to Snape and the brewing tensions. He would have to keep an eye on him, but for now, he focused on the faces before him—eager, hopeful, and blissfully unaware of the darkness gathering at the edges of their world.

The lesson flew by, filled with laughter and the occasional mishap as students attempted new spells. Yet as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Sirius felt a gnawing sense of urgency return. He couldn't ignore the feeling that a confrontation with Snape was inevitable, and he needed to be ready.

With his heart racing, he resolved to have a word with Dumbledore before the night was over. He would need all the information he could gather if he was to protect Harry and confront the truth about the past.

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