Screeeech!

  The terrifying, twisted, inhuman scream tore through the silence like something dragged from the depths of hell, reverberating through the Mirror Dimension and warping the space around like ripples through glass.

  Clink… ting… ting… clink…

  The locket twisted and thrashed on the ground, rattling loudly as pitch-black flames coiled around it. The fire moved like living serpents, cruel and hungry, wrapping tighter with each second, as if determined to drag something out from within.

  Click.

  Click Click.

  A thick, shadowy mist began to leak from the cracks forming on the locket's surface, then poured out in writhing streams, gathering together before shaping itself into a twisted face.

  Screeech!

  Screeech!

  It looked furious and in pain, but the cursed flames paid it no mind as they closed in, devouring the vile thing bit by bit. In just a matter of seconds, its screeches went from rage to guttural snarls, then turned into desperate pleas.

  "What is that thing?"

  Sirius Black stood behind Maverick and Ali, looking truly shaken by the horrific sight. And coming from a man who had spent more than a decade locked away in the deepest, darkest corners of Azkaban, his reaction said plenty about just how disturbing the scene really was.

  "It's a soul… or it used to be," Maverick explained without looking back. "That locket was said to have once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself… but now, it's been twisted into something purely evil."

  "Whose soul do you think that is, Mr. Black?" he then asked the man, glancing slightly over his shoulder.

  Sirius didn't need long to guess the answer. The locket had been found in his dead brother's room, and Regulus had once been a fanatical follower of the Dark Lord.

  "Voldemort," the name slipped from his lips like a curse.

  His fists clenched, and now that he knew whose soul it was—the same monster who had killed his closest friends—Sirius's fear faded quickly, replaced by a grim sort of satisfaction.

  As the seconds passed, the blackened soul fragment thrashed and twisted, growing more and more desperate to escape. But without the locket to anchor it, there was nowhere for it to run. It couldn't fight. It couldn't hide.

  Finally, after one last twisted shriek, it collapsed in on itself and crumbled into ash—gone for good. The whole thing hadn't taken long, really. From the moment Maverick had unleashed the Fiendfyre to now, barely a minute had passed.

  "Is that it?" Ali glanced at Maverick, feeling the whole thing had ended a bit... anticlimactically.

  Maverick hummed thoughtfully, then scanned the charred remains of the locket with his magic, checking for any lingering traces of anything unnatural.

  He sensed nothing unusual. But just to be safe, he let the real expert have the final say.

  With a flick of his finger, the burned lump of metal flew into his hand, and sure enough, the system didn't prompt anything from it.

  "It's done, yes," he gave a short nod.

  Sirius also stepped closer, frowning as he looked down at the blackened scrap. "How did the Dark Lord's soul end up in something my brother kept? I thought he was supposed to be dead?"

  Maverick curled a smile, then closed his fist. The charred remains cracked and crumbled like brittle glass, slipping through his fingers and scattering as ash across the floor. Turning to the fugitive, he answered, "He never died, Mr. Black… but you just helped destroy a part of him. So, congratulations."

  With that—

  Snap!

  The world around them rippled.

  The mirror-like warps in the walls began to smooth out. The shimmering bends in space snapped back into place. Edges sharpened. Colors deepened. And with a soft click, like glass settling into its frame, the Mirror Dimension peeled away—returning them once more to Regulus Black's old office.

  "We're done here." Saying that, Maverick gave a slight nod, signaling it was time to leave.

  "Wait!" Sirius stepped forward. "You can't just drop something like that and not explain anything. What the hell do you mean that madman isn't dead?" He wasn't convinced, and for good reason.

  Maverick understood it as well. "My friend will fill you in, Mr. Black."

  He had no intention of keeping the man in the dark, and telling him about old Voldy now wouldn't make any real difference to his plans anyway.

  With that thought, he opened a portal in the middle of the room and stepped through. Behind him, Ali let out a quiet sigh, already thinking he would be stuck playing babysitter for this grown-ass walking trouble a while longer.

  "Come, Sirius Black. We have a lot to talk about, and… I shall explain to you everything."

  ---

  A couple of minutes later, they were back in the same residence where Sirius had first been brought to recover and heal.

  "What you need to do now, Mr. Black, is focus on healing. The Ministry has mobilized the most unthinkable assets in their arsenal to search for you—all over London, and even at Hogwarts."

  Sirius sat down on the bed, listening to Maverick's instructions—reluctantly, of course, since they mostly boiled down to one thing: he wasn't allowed to leave the place. That said, he understood the reason. He had more or less recovered by now, at least enough to think rationally.

  He let out a bitter chuckle at the mention of unthinkable and muttered, "Does Fudge really think that highly of me? Sending Unspeakables, of all people?"

  Maverick sneered and shook his head. "No. Although you're probably the first recorded escapee from Azkaban, you're still not relevant enough for those old relics to make a move. And Fudge... just because he runs the Ministry doesn't mean he has the power to order them either."

  By now, Maverick had learned a great deal about the British Ministry of Magic from Lord Greengrass—things that weren't written down but were core secrets known only to the upper circle of power. One of these secrets involved the so-called Unspeakables. Apparently, there were two Great Magi among them who weren't registered with the ICW.

  That also made him realize that much of what's on record might not be the full truth. Who knows how many old fossils are out there, quietly hiding their true abilities all over the magical world?

  He paused at the thought, then added to his earlier remark, "It's your old buddies from Azkaban, the Dementors, who've been let loose to hunt you down."

  "You're joking?" the fugitive asked, taken aback.

  "I'm afraid not," Maverick said firmly. "Precisely it's because of those creatures, you have to stay hidden for now. They don't have eyes, but their senses are sharp, and they can detect magical signatures. So unless you can stay in your Animagus form indefinitely, even if you disguise your face as someone else, they can, and will, eventually track you down."

  "Am I then supposed to stay here for Merlin knows how long until you finish whatever it is you have in mind?" Sirius asked again, though this time without the maddening rage. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not being ungrateful and can think clearly now, but it's just..."

  "Not for long," Maverick cut him off. "I'm already working on something to disguise your face and suppress your magical signature. It'll take a couple of days, but until then, just stay put."

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  He glanced at Ali and added, "In the meantime, my friend here will fill you in—about what happened earlier, and about Tom Riddle too."

  Of course, that wouldn't be all of his secrets—just enough to keep Sirius in the loop without it affecting anything important. Maverick didn't say that part out loud, and Ali understood it without needing him to spell it out.

  The fugitive's face lit up at the mention of being able to move freely. He didn't doubt Maverick could deliver on what he had just promised and said gratefully, "I understand, and… thank you."

  Maverick smiled inwardly. Finally, the man was cooperating sincerely, and the rest would be easy to handle. Glancing back at Ali, he said, "I'll return in a day or two. After that, you can take him along wherever you go."

  Back to Sirius, he advised one last time, "remember, Mr. Black, this is all for your own good. Don't let our efforts go to waste. Follow Ali's instructions, and depending on how well you cooperate, we'll tell you more... like why I'm keeping Pettigrew captured instead of handing him over to the Ministry or killing him outright."

  Sirius's fists clenched at the mention of the rat again, but he kept his temper in check and gave a stiff nod.

  "Good." Maverick gave one last look, then turned and left the place.

  —————————

  Time passed, and soon the remaining weeks of the summer holidays were drawing to a close.

  True to his word, Maverick crafted a disguise much like the ones he had made for the Stark couple, with some added features to conceal the magical signature. It wasn't difficult—after all, the alchemical technology wasn't new. Most ancient family rings had the ability to hide a wizard's magic, and Maverick only needed to make subtle adjustments to that.

  Sirius Black was recovering at a noticeable rate, slowly putting on muscle and a bit of fat to fill out his skeletal frame day by day. With the ring on, he no longer had to worry about being discovered—he looked like a completely different person to the eye and even to any extraordinary senses. He followed Ali without protest, and at last, Maverick had the time to focus on other things.

  And speaking of other matters, out of Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes, only Nagini and Helga Hufflepuff's cup remain as material objects. The locket has been destroyed, making four out of seven gone, and Harry Potter is a whole other matter entirely.

  That serpent, Nagini, had been especially difficult to track down—over a year had passed since he had people searching for it, but there were still no leads. The goblet, however, was almost certainly hidden inside Gringotts and wasn't going anywhere. Maverick already had a solid plan to steal it, but that was something to deal with at a later date.

  The next few days, Maverick spent organizing the lesson plans for the new year. Once again, his workload at school was set to increase. Last year, he taught first and second grades, then sixth and seventh. This year, third grade would be added to the list, but it would still be manageable for him.

  He also paid a visit to Durmstrang to discuss the inter-school Quidditch tournament, offer advice, and introduce his own people who would take key parts in organizing the event. After all, this was his project—one that generated a lot of Galleons for him—and he couldn't just blindly hand it completely over to the host school.

  This year, Hogwarts would be traveling to Germany, but unlike the previous year, Maverick didn't plan to escort the students himself for every round of the tournament. He would let another professor handle that. Of course, if Hogwarts made it to the finals, that would be a different story.

  And while he went on getting one thing after another checked off his list of personal and Hogwarts-related tasks, at Diagon Alley, Harry Potter finally found out about the escape of Sirius Black, apparently Voldemort's most loyal follower.

  After coming back from America and spending a couple of days at home, Harry got in touch with the Weasleys, and the redheads came to pick him up from the Dursleys. Coincidentally, the time he sent his owl was just as the Weasley family returned from their vacation, so together, they came to Diagon Alley to buy the year's school supplies.

  At this time, Harry was taken to a corner inside the Leaky Cauldron by good old Mr. Weasley to tell him a big — not exactly a secret. Posters of Sirius Black were plastered everywhere, and nearly every magical soul in Britain now knew of the man's escape.

  "You best be careful this year, my dear boy. A dangerous criminal is on the loose, as you can see," Mr. Weasley said, nodding toward the wanted poster on the wall not far from them, then turned back to Harry with a series of odd expressions, like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

  "I know, Mr. Weasley. Everyone knows," Harry said, looking puzzled as to why Ron's dad was going through so much trouble just to tell him that.

  "Good... good." Mr. Weasley clearly didn't realize he was only making Harry more confused, when all he meant to do was make the boy a little more cautious this year—without actually revealing the whole truth.

  But the way Mr. Weasley's eyes kept darting left and right, glancing around nervously, did nothing to help his case. It was plain as day—even a half-blind troll could tell he was either hiding something or afraid of being overheard.

  And as a result, even Harry—with his classic Gryffindor brain—finally caught on that something was off.

  "You think Sirius Black escaped to come after me?" Harry asked, bewildered by the sudden thought.

  "What? No... how did you—"

  "But why? What did I ever do to him?" Harry pressed on, and gave the older man no room to refute.

  Poor Weasley—he had truly bitten his own tongue. Merlin's thick beard, why did I even start? he thought.

  He had only meant to warn Harry to be careful, to avoid sneaking around the school after curfew—especially that dangerous forest they called "forbidden." And as a former Ministry official, he was well aware that the area didn't fall entirely under the castle's protective measures.

  He also knew the kind of troublemaker this boy was—and his own sons, no less. Trouble didn't find them; they went looking for it themselves. That's all Arthur could think when it came to these kids.

  Sigh.

  "Listen, Harry… that criminal won't be able to reach you as long as you stay inside the school. I'm just saying… try to stay out of trouble this year, will you? No late-night adventures, and absolutely... no sneaking around after curfew!"

  Arthur realized he had failed rather miserably at achieving what he had intended in the first place, and could only fall back on a stern warning. Unfortunately, that, too, had the opposite effect on the Boy Who Lived.

  "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley," Harry said with a sheepish grin. "Besides, you haven't answered my question—why would that criminal be coming after me?"

  That Gryffindor curiosity kicked in hard, and now Harry was dead set on getting every detail.

  "I need to know," he pressed. "And would he really be stupid enough to come to Hogwarts? There's the Headmaster... and Professor Caesar, after all."

  Arthur opened his mouth to respond to the barrage of even more sensitive questions, but hesitated. He was dangerously close to digging himself into a deeper hole—and Harry didn't look like he was going to let the matter drop.

  Begrudgingly, the older man realized he had already said too much. There was no point in holding back now. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he finally offered a vague but honest admission.

  "It's not that they're stupid, Harry. You can't judge Vold... You-Know-Who's followers, especially a mad man like Sirius Black by normal standards. They're absolutely mad beyond reason, the lot of them.

  "But you're absolutely right on one thing… with Headmaster Dumbledore and Master Caesar at the school, Sirius Black won't be able to lay a finger on you—"

  "ARTHUR! What are you two whispering about so secretly?"

  Mother Weasley's sudden call startled the man, and he quickly swallowed the rest of what he was about to say.

  "Right... you got the general idea," he whispered one last time to Harry before turning to his wife.

  "Nothing, dear. Just checking if Mr. Harry here managed to buy everything earlier today..."

  "Really?" Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at him like a hawk, making Arthur swallow nervously before she turned to Harry with her usual warm smile.

  "Well? Did you manage to buy everything?"

  "I... yes, Mrs. Weasley. Everything's bought. Fred and George went with me this morning, remember..." Harry answered, fidgeting a little. She really was a strange mix of motherly warmth and quiet intimidation.

  "Wonderful," she smiled, then sighed. "Ron still has a few things left to get, and—would you believe it?" She shot a sharp look at Arthur, who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the boys while she went with Ginny. "He's been lying asleep all morning while the three of you were off shopping! Honestly, I've given him a proper telling-off already—such a lazy boy!"

  Harry's eyes twitched, and he spared half a second of silence for his best buddy. She was right, though, Ron hadn't exactly been in the best mood.

  This morning, he, Fred, and George all tried to wake him up, but he just grumbled and stayed stubborn. There wasn't much they could do... so they left him to sulk.

  "Would you do me a favor, dear, and check on him?" Mrs. Weasley asked, this time with real worry in her voice. "He's been in such a state ever since that pet of his disappeared… sulking like it's the end of the world. Honestly, that boy. Usually one stern word from me is enough to set him straight, but losing Scabbers has really got to him."

  "I will, right away, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quickly, and with that, he turned and ran off toward the stairs where the Weasleys had booked their rooms.

  And speaking of pets—meanwhile, in another part of Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger was strolling alongside her mother and father when she suddenly came to a halt in front of the Magical Menagerie.

  Behind the glass, a large, fluffy ginger cat sat lazily on a perch, its squashed face and thick tail twitching slightly in boredom. Its eyes—golden and oddly intelligent—met hers through the glass.

  Hermione's breath caught. She stared, wide-eyed, with an expression that hovered somewhere between surprise and wonder… as if she'd just recognized something she hadn't even known she was looking for.

  The butterflies had long taken flight—wings stirring currents that twisted the flow of fate—but even in chaos, time has a strange way of guiding the pieces back to where they belong. One by one, the puzzle finds its shape.

  ———————

  Author's Note:

  Next chapter, we officially start Book Three. The summer holidays arc ended up dragging on longer than I originally planned, but honestly, I'm pretty happy with how it all turned out in the end.

  I really tried my best to cut down on redundant paragraphs as much as possible, and I hope you guys noticed that too.

  Please leave your feedback... seriously. Your constructive criticism helps me improve how I tell the story more than anything else.

  And finally, thank you so much for your continued support. Over 200 chapters and 400,000 words in just half a year… I never thought I'd actually pull that off. All the credit goes to you, my amazing readers.

  Thank you, thank you... from the bottom of my heart.

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