Harry wasn't quite sure how he got back to the Honeydukes' cellar, or how he traversed the tunnel back to the castle.
When he reached the spot where he fought William, the blocked passage had already returned to its original state, with only the corner glowing with the fluorescent blue Rune Stones. Harry felt like the journey back took much less time, even shorter than when he first came.
The boy wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, as his mind was still echoing with the words he had just heard.
Why didn't anyone tell him?
During dinner, Ron, Hermione, and Neville kept an uneasy eye on Harry, not daring to discuss the news they'd heard because Percy was sitting nearby. When they went upstairs to the crowded common room, they saw Fred and George excitedly setting fire to their math and science homework due to the upcoming holiday.
Then there was Percy's furious shout, the students' screams, sounds Harry wished not to hear, so he quietly slipped into the empty dormitory.
He went straight to his bedside cabinet, pushed aside some books, and quickly found what he was looking for—the leather album Hagrid gave him two years ago, filled with magic photos of his parents. He sat on the bed, pulled the curtains closed, and started flipping through the album page by page, carefully searching…
Finally, he turned to a photo of his mom and dad's wedding and paused, where Dad was beaming and waving at him. The messy black hair he inherited from Dad stood rebelliously in all directions, and his mom with long deep red hair looked radiant, blissfully arm-in-arm with Dad.
Next, Harry's gaze stopped, seeing a dark-haired young man waving, young, handsome, and charming.
Their best man… Dad's best friend… Dark Lord's minion… Blake.
If he hadn't known it was the same person, he wouldn't have guessed that the man in the old photo was Blake.
His face wasn't sallow and hollow, but strikingly handsome, with a charming smile. So… when this photo was taken, was he already serving Voldemort? Was he already planning the death dates of the two people around him? Did he realize he would face twelve years in Azkaban, which would change him beyond recognition?
However, Dementors had no effect on him, Harry thought as he stared at the handsome, charming face.
Harry gently stroked the unfamiliar face with his fingers, as if trying to engrain him in his mind. An unprecedented hatred flowed through Harry's body like poison. He began trembling uncontrollably, a fierce emotion almost instantly spread through his mind.
'Kill, kill… must, kill him!'
The shrill scream made Harry instinctively cover his ears, with some unknown voices starting to echo around him. He saw Blake appearing in the darkness, laughing wildly at him, as if someone had pasted a photo from the album right in front of his eyes.
Just like a movie, he saw Sirius Black blowing Peter Pettigrew into pieces in the street.
He heard a voice excitedly whispering, "Success, Master… the Potters appointed me as their Secret Keeper." Then another voice, laughing sharply, the same laughter he heard during summer vacation…
"Click…"
The dormitory door opened, and the noise from the common room passed through the corridor with dim yellow light appearing in the room.
"Harry?"
Ron's voice sounded a bit hesitant.
"…Are you okay?"
That was Neville's voice, outside the drawn curtains.
"Nothing."
Harry shook his head and snapped the old photo album shut with a "pop", his voice slightly hoarse… something he just realized himself.
Ron and Neville exchanged a glance, and in the light from the common room, they both saw the panic on each other's faces.
"Harry…"
Ron swallowed his saliva, paused, and began awkwardly forming words, "About what we heard earlier, you… you're not going, right? I know this must be hard for you, but you definitely can't do anything foolish!"
"Like what?" Harry asked.
"Like, finding Black." Ron said straight to the point.
"…Am I a fool in your eyes?"
Harry asked somewhat speechlessly, looking at the slightly frantic Ron waving his arms about.
"Eh?"
"Of course, I don't plan on that, no matter what, a Death Eater who slaughtered dozens of people isn't someone I can defeat." Harry shook his head, his tone calm, as if the hatred that had just surged in his heart had never appeared, "I'm not a fool, how could I have such plans?"
"Really?"
"What else?"
"That's great, you can stay calm." Ron seemed utterly relieved, plopping onto his bed, "Hermione even told us to stop you at all costs, but it seems you're not that impulsive after all."
And following him was Neville, who also seemed relieved, feeling like his prepared speech was unnecessary…
But…
Neville suddenly froze, looking up at Harry's curtains where the boy's face appeared obscured by shadows.
…
"Harry, good… noon."
Finally pulling herself out of those balanced equations, formulas, and sets, Hermione saw the boy descending the stairs and instinctively greeted him.