Attempting to alter the past will always be punished by time itself.
Had Hermione not appeared on that bench, would Harry Potter and his friends have lingered there? Would they have even thought of following Lockhart? And in the end, would they ever have encountered Sirius Black?
If Hermione had simply taken Harry and the others and left, perhaps none of what followed would have happened.
That paradox alone was why the Time-Turner had so many restrictions placed on its use.
No one can truly change the past or reverse the future. Time always corrects itself—and sometimes, it makes things worse.
No one could have known this, least of all Hermione.
In truth, the moment she realized how tangled things had become, regret hit her hard. To be exact, she knew she shouldn't have used the Time-Turner so recklessly.
Maybe she should have gone straight to a professor instead.
As for why the first person she thought of was Draco, only Hermione herself could understand that.
"Who are those wizards? They just used... Unforgivable Curses."
"Looks like something serious is going on."
"Draco?"
Draco seemed to recognize them.
Compared to Peter Pettigrew—a name that only vaguely rang a bell—Hermione was far more alarmed by the wizards who had cast dark magic without hesitation. Their hooded robes, their secretive air, their shadowed faces... nothing about them looked like good people.
Pansy, who until now had stayed quietly by as little more than a bystander, moved closer to Draco. Her expression had gone tense.
"Didn't you hear what they said?" she murmured, not looking back but answering for Draco in a heavy tone.
"Think carefully. Who else would so casually use the word 'Master'?"
"....."
"And to cast the Cruciatus Curse without a hint of hesitation—that's what they're best known for."
Pansy's words, along with Draco's silence, made Hermione's eyes widen.
Someone as sharp as her didn't need more explanation. She knew exactly who Pansy meant.
Realization dawning, Hermione's gaze dropped to the robed figures' arms, as though she could see through the fabric and glimpse what was hidden underneath.
Without realizing it, she moved closer to Draco, her shoulder brushing his—seeking even the smallest sense of security.
After all...
Sirius Black's body was trembling, his eyes rolled back, his whole expression twisted into something almost inhuman. The sight was unnerving to the point of terror.
If she were to lose control like that in front of Draco...
...
It had to be said—the appearance of the dark-robed wizards, announcing themselves with the Cruciatus Curse, was terrifying enough to silence everyone.
Ron Weasley, who moments ago had been clutching his broken leg and crying out in pain, now pressed his pale lips tightly together, not daring to make a sound.
Harry Potter stood frozen in place, his mind blank with shock. The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead throbbed painfully, forcing him to grit his teeth.
Aside from Sirius Black, who was convulsing on the ground, the arrival of the black-robed figures brought everything to a halt. Even Lockhart, who normally thrived in chaos, held his tongue for once.
Just as Hermione anxiously wondered what to do, the leader of the dark wizards turned his gaze—not toward anyone else—but toward the small creature before him. To be precise, Ron Weasley's pet rat, Scabbers.
It seemed everyone's attention was drawn to that one rat.
"Squeak! Squeak!"
"If that's how you intend to speak to me, then I'll be sure to relay your words to the Master."
"Squeak!?"
Under Ron's horrified stare, Scabbers began writhing uncontrollably. Then, with a flash of light, the small rat grew in size before everyone's eyes.
They had seen this before—with Sirius Black.
So this was yet another unregistered Animagus...
"Huff... so it really is you! I'll kill—"
"Crucio!"
"Waaahhh!!"
Screams.
Thrashing.
Convulsions.
It was impossible to imagine the pain Sirius Black was enduring.
This time, the black-robed wizard showed no intention of stopping. His wand remained fixed on Sirius, who was trembling violently, nearly losing control of his own body.
"Stop!!"
"Harry Potter," the dark wizard sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "If you weren't still useful, I'd deal with you myself for the Master's sake."
He cast a cold glance at Harry, who had retrieved his wand, and let out a low, mocking laugh.
But then, with a flick of his wrist, he lowered his wand. He had no time to waste. The Dementors couldn't hold out for long, and the Aurors from the Ministry must have already sensed something was wrong.
"Long time no see, you coward... Peter Pettigrew. The Master is furious."
"You—you know I'm the Master's most loyal servant! You must know that!"
Perhaps from too many years spent as a rat, Peter Pettigrew's pointed nose and twitching eyes still carried traces of his rodent nature.
He cowered and wrung his hands together, his high, trembling voice filled with fear and pathetic desperation.
"Hmph. I don't know what trick you used to let the Master find you, but I'll be watching you, Peter Pettigrew."
The dark wizard, who had kept his identity hidden from the start, withdrew his gaze from Pettigrew and turned toward Lockhart, whose lips were curled into a strange smile.
For a moment—perhaps just a trick of the light—there seemed to be a flicker of unease in the dark wizard's eyes as he looked at Lockhart.
Lockhart, noticing that their attention was now on him, gave his wand a casual wave.
"What a delightful show. Don't worry, I've no desire to be interrupted mid-battle by a bunch of Aurors. And honestly, you decaying lot are dreadfully dull."
"....."
The black-robed wizards began to retreat slowly, dragging Peter Pettigrew along with them.
Harry Potter opened his mouth, wanting to say something—but when his eyes fell on the nearly unconscious Sirius Black lying at his feet, he said nothing.
He might be brave, but he wasn't foolish.
And in that moment, the hatred in his gaze toward Sirius Black faded—replaced by a fierce, burning need to know the truth...