Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise—he clearly hadn't expected Harry to admit his actions so readily.
"He must have used dark magic!" Draco shouted from his position beside the desk, his voice cracking slightly with excitement and malicious anticipation.
It wasn't until Professor McGonagall turned her head and shot Malfoy one of her most stern glares that he hastily restrained his arrogant, triumphant attitude and settled back properly in his chair.
After allowing the silence to stretch long enough to make both boys uncomfortable, Professor McGonagall rose from her chair. She walked around from behind her desk. When she came to a stop before them, she swept her sharp gaze over both Harry and Malfoy.
"Mr. Potter, given the serious nature of Mr. Malfoy's accusations, I find it necessary to conduct a thorough investigation of the spells you have cast in the past forty-eight hours."
She extended her hand toward Harry, her expression showing absolutely no tolerance or acceptance of any argument. "Please show me your wand."
Harry nodded without protest, understanding that resistance would only make his situation worse and potentially lend credibility to Malfoy's accusations of dark magic use.
He drew his wand from his robes' pocket with steady hands and placed it carefully across Professor McGonagall's outstretched palm.
Malfoy smugly raised his eyebrows at this development. He was already envisioning the glorious scene of Harry Potter being formally punished, perhaps even suspended or expelled, for the use of dark magic against a fellow student.
Professor McGonagall accepted the wand, then held it between her fingers as she raised her own wand. She waved it in a precise pattern and recited a somewhat obscure incantation in clear, slow tones.
Harry immediately recognized the spell as a standard Prior Incantato charm.
A bright silvery-white light shot from the tip of Professor McGonagall's wand, the beam was so intense that both boys had to squint against its radiance. The light quickly condensed and swirled in the air above them, forming wisps of glowing smoke.
In the smoke, blurred images gradually took shape.
A Transfiguration spell, a Lumos charm, then Confringo, Confringo, and Confringo...
After the fourth successive Confringo was recreated, Malfoy's face grew somewhat stiff.
'What in Merlin's name was Potter doing casting so many Blasting Curses?' The question raced through Malfoy's mind with growing alarm. 'Did he actually want to blow someone to pieces? Was he practicing to kill me?'
"What exactly... is this?" Professor McGonagall asked slowly, her voice carrying a new tone of concern as she returned Harry's wand to him. Her expression had shifted from stern disapproval to genuine confusion and worry.
"I was just practicing the Blasting Curse for the Tournament," Harry explained quickly, scratching the back of his head in nervous embarrassment. "I absolutely didn't use that spell in the corridor this morning, Professor. Professor Westeros was supervising my practice sessions—he can testify to everything I've told you!"
"Very well," Professor McGonagall said after a moment of consideration. She decided to accept Harry's explanation at face value, particularly given his offer of verification from a fellow professor.
"But regardless of your intentions or the ultimate harmlessness of your corridor spell, the fact remains that you cast magic against a fellow student in a school corridor, which is strictly forbidden."
She paused to let this sink in before delivering her verdict. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for unauthorized spell-casting in the corridors and for targeting another student, even with non-harmful magic."
Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension drained from his body. Losing house points was certainly unpleasant, but it was already the smallest possible price he could have paid for his actions.
Just twenty points—if Hermione applied herself with her usual academic excellence, or if he managed to distinguish himself in classes over the next few weeks, they could earn those points back relatively quickly.
It was a manageable consequence, far better than detention, suspension, or the more serious punishments he had feared.
"Well, it looks like you escaped any real punishment," Malfoy said with false cheerfulness, though his voice had a tinge of bitter disappointment. "Next time you should remember to—"
"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut through his gloating.
"What?" Malfoy turned to look at her with raised eyebrows, his expression shifting from smug satisfaction to sudden confusion and wariness.
"Twenty points from Slytherin as well, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall announced, her gaze sharp and unforgiving as she delivered her judgment mercilessly.
"For making false and baseless accusations against a fellow student regarding the use of dark magic, which constitutes an extremely serious act of slander that could have resulted in severe consequences for Mr. Potter's academic career and future prospects."
Malfoy stared at her in complete shock, his mouth opening and closing silently as his brain struggled to process this unexpected turn of events. Then his pale face flushed a deep red.
"This isn't fair!" He protested, jumping to his feet abruptly. "I was just making reasonable suspicions—"
"Reasonable suspicion must always be grounded in demonstrable facts and evidence," Professor McGonagall replied without showing even a hint of retreat or compromise.
"The Prior Incantato examination has conclusively proven that Mr. Potter employed no dark magic at all—only standard, approved Transfiguration techniques that any competent fourth-year student might reasonably be expected to master."
She paused before delivering her final warning. "If you continue to make unreasonable trouble or persist in these groundless accusations, I don't mind deducting another twenty points from Slytherin. Is that quite clear?"
Malfoy's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in obvious frustration, his entire body turning stiff with anger and humiliation. After several moments of internal struggle, he managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."
Harry watched this dramatic reversal of fortune with barely concealed delight, fighting to keep his expression neutral while internally celebrating this unexpected victory.
Malfoy had completely engineered his own downfall. Instead of achieving his goal of seeing Harry punished, he had managed to ensure that both houses lost exactly the same number of points.
Twenty points from Gryffindor, twenty points from Slytherin.
From a mathematical perspective, this was almost like no points being deducted at all. In fact, from a certain strategic viewpoint, Harry had actually come out ahead by exposing Malfoy's malicious nature to Professor McGonagall's attention.
"Very well then, gentlemen," Professor McGonagall concluded with finality, returning to her position behind her desk and picking up her quill to resume grading. "It's growing late, and I'm sure you both have better ways to spend your evening than lingering in my office. You are both dismissed."
After they left the office together, walking side by side down the corridor in tense silence, Harry finally turned to look at his nemesis with cheerfulness.
"So, Malfoy," He said with exaggerated politeness, "are you quite satisfied with how this evening turned out? Did you achieve everything you hoped for when you decided to report me to Professor McGonagall?"
"We'll see about that, Pottah," Malfoy replied through clenched teeth, his grey eyes flashing with promises of future revenge. "This isn't over between us. Not by a long shot."
With that statement, he turned sharply and walked away down the corridor.
Harry watched him leave with a broad grin spreading across his face, genuinely amused by the entire sequence of events. Malfoy's complete failure to achieve his malicious goals had been more entertaining than any comedy show.
Harry's cheerful mood persisted and even improved over the next day.
This Saturday had been designated as a Hogsmeade visit day.
On days like this, the famous Three Broomsticks inn would inevitably become packed to capacity with students from Hogwarts, all eager to taste freedom, socialize outside the castle, and sample Madam Rosmerta's famous butterbeer.
The cozy inn, with its low-beamed ceiling, crackling fireplace, and atmosphere of warm warmth, served as the social heart of Hogsmeade village during these student invasion days.
Fortunately, Adrian had shown remarkable foresight by arriving early and securing one of the better tables—a corner booth that offered both privacy and a clear view of the main room, perfect for observing the in and out of students while conducting more adult business.
The Three Broomsticks presented its usual scene of precise chaos on this busy afternoon.
Madam Rosmerta was directing a fleet of self-washing glasses behind the wooden bar. The glasses danced through the air in precise formations, diving into sudsy wash basins, emerging sparkling clean, and arranging themselves in neat rows ready for the next order.
The air throughout the inn was filled with the sweet, rich aroma of butterbeer. Mixed with this was the buzz of dozens of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the gentle clink of glasses and cutlery that created the perfect backdrop for social gathering.
Around noon, just as the lunch crowd was reaching its peak, Adrian finally spotted the two figures he had been waiting for making their way through the crowded common room toward his reserved table.
Sirius and Remus crossed the maze of occupied tables, nodding politely to students who recognized the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and casting curious glances at the infamous escaped convict who was now walking freely through the shop.
After they sat in the chairs across from Adrian, taking a moment to arrange their winter cloaks and settle into the comfortable booth, they immediately placed their orders with the stressed but efficient serving witch who appeared at their table.
"Two butterbeers, please," Remus requested with his typical politeness, "and perhaps some of those excellent meat pies if they're still warm."
"My treat, of course," Sirius said generously. "Consider it a celebration of successful business venture and old friendships."
Adrian took the opportunity to carefully observe the two and noticed the subtle changes in their appearances and demeanor.
Sirius didn't look particularly different from his usual self. Remus, however, appeared remarkably transformed. His robes were of fine quality fabric, well-tailored and obviously new. His face had filled out slightly, losing the thin, malnourished look.
"You look like you've been thriving lately, Remus," Adrian observed with genuine pleasure, unable to suppress his curiosity about this dramatic improvement in his friend's fortunes. "Something particularly good must have happened recently. Care to share the details?"
"Do you remember what I mentioned in my last letter?" Remus replied, his face lighting up with a smile. "Sirius and I finally opened that potion ingredients shop we'd been planning in Diagon Alley."
"And how's the business treating you?" Adrian asked, looking genuinely interested in their business.
"Better than we ever dared hope," Sirius interjected. "Just recently, some rather mysterious fellows placed an enormous order for a large batch of rare potion ingredients and we managed to get these goods from other countries."
"Mysterious fellows?" Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, yes," Sirius continued, leaning forward slightly as if sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip, "originally we were somewhat hesitant to take on such an unusual commission. The quantities they wanted were enormous, and some of the requested ingredients were quite specialized."
He paused to take a sip of his butterbeer before continuing. "But in the end, we decided to accept the contract, and it turned out to be absolutely the right decision. The profit margin was extraordinary—it's made us what I would conservatively call a small fortune."
Given that Sirius came from the ancient and wealthy Black family, his definition of a "fortune" was likely to be considerably more large than most people would consider financially substantial. This meant that their potion ingredients business had indeed been remarkably successful.
Seeing that his former employee and friend was thriving in his new circumstances, Adrian felt a considerable weight lift from his shoulders. He had always felt somewhat responsible for Remus's wellbeing, knowing how difficult it was for a werewolf to find steady, legitimate employment in the wizarding world.
While the three men continued their conversation, catching up on months of news and sharing stories of their respective endeavors, Adrian's attention was momentarily caught by two familiar young faces walking through the crowded interior of the Three Broomsticks.
Ron and Hermione were moving slowly through the packed crowd, clearly searching for available seating among the crush of weekend visitors. Ron's red hair made him easily identifiable even in the crowded room, while Hermione's bushy brown hair caught the warm lamplight as she turned her head to scan the available options.
"What are you two up to?" Adrian called out, raising his voice and his hand in a friendly wave to catch their attention.
Hermione turned at the sound of her professor's voice, her face immediately lighting up with genuine delight at the unexpected encounter.
"Professor Westeros! Professor Lupin! And Sirius!" She exclaimed, making her way quickly through the maze of occupied tables toward their corner booth. "How wonderful to see you all together! This is such a pleasant surprise!"
Ron followed somewhat more slowly behind her, his expression showing a mixture of pleasure at seeing familiar faces and a certain residual nervousness around Sirius Black.
Despite knowing that Harry's godfather was innocent of the crimes for which he had been imprisoned, Ron still found it slightly unsettling to encounter the man whose face had been on "Wanted" posters for so many years.
"What are you two…?" Adrian asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.
"We're looking for somewhere to sit, actually," Hermione replied with a smile, gesturing at the completely packed inn around them. "As you can see, every available table seems to be occupied. We've been wandering around for a few minutes trying to find even two empty chairs."
Adrian immediately moved to make room at their table, shifting his position and signaling to his companions to do the same. "Well, we can certainly remedy that situation. Please, join us—there's plenty of room for everyone."
The expansion of their group required some creative rearrangement of seating, but soon all five were comfortably settled around the larger table, with additional chairs conjured.
Hermione was already quite familiar with Sirius from her time spent at 12 Grimmauld Place during the previous summer holidays.
After sitting into her chair, she looked with curiosity at both Sirius and Remus. "What brings you here today?"
"We're here because of the Triwizard Tournament," Remus explained, taking another sip of his butterbeer. "We decided it would be worth making the journey to witness such a historic event. After all, it's been over a century since the Tournament was last held."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
That made sense—the Triwizard Tournament was certainly worth making a special trip for.
"Excuse me," Ron interjected, looking somewhat confused as he processed this information, "but does the Triwizard Tournament actually allow outside observers? I thought it was restricted to students and current school staffs."
Sirius and Remus exchanged a meaningful glance.
"Well," Remus said with a slight wink, "I was still serving as a Hogwarts professor just last year, so Dumbledore was quite willing to extend special permission for me to attend as a former faculty member."
He paused and glanced meaningfully at Sirius before continuing. "As for Sirius... let's just say that there are always ways."
Ron and Hermione nodded knowingly, neither pressing for more specific details about what exactly that way might be.
It was probably not entirely above board.
"I heard that Harry's also participating in the Triwizard Tournament this time?" Sirius asked suddenly, changing the subject.
"Yes, he is," Hermione confirmed, though her expression grew slightly more serious. "But the situation has become rather complicated—Hogwarts ended up with two champions instead of the usual one. Both Harry and Cedric Diggory were selected by the Goblet of Fire."
"Harry absolutely deserves the champion title," Sirius declared with fierce pride, crossing his arms and exhaling slowly as if releasing some internal tension. "If this competition had existed when I was student at Hogwarts, I'm absolutely certain that I would have been selected as the school's representative."
"I'm quite sure you would have been," Adrian replied dryly.
"By the way," Remus said, glancing around the crowded inn with curiosity, "where is Harry this afternoon? I remember you three are usually together during Hogsmeade visits. It's rather unusual to see you here without him."
"We're not entirely sure where he is at the moment," Ron said, scratching his head with a slightly sheepish expression. "Harry told us to meet him here at the Three Broomsticks around noon, and said he'd join us shortly after that. But he was rather vague about what he needed to do first."
Meanwhile, Adrian keenly noticed that Hermione's face seemed flushed, as if she'd been drinking something alcoholic.
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