The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 299 Hogsmeade's Bait Plan

Chapter 299 Hogsmeade's Bait Plan (5K) (1/2)

Let's turn the hour hand of the clock back a few times.

Remus Lupin wrapped his perpetually worn-out suit jacket tighter around himself, the early winter wind seeping in everywhere.

The area around Hogwarts was unusually quiet on the weekend. The leaden sky hung low, carrying an oppressive atmosphere of impending rain. Several days of searching had yielded no substantial progress, only a few traces that could be loosely explained as signs of brief human presence in some abandoned corners or remote woodlands—a few black hairs of unidentifiable species, the embers of a campfire—perhaps left by an upperclassman during a nighttime stroll—and some blurry, long since lost footprints.

He stood on a small slope overlooking part of the forbidden forest, his brows furrowed, his gaze sweeping across the deep woodland below, his face showing weariness and uncertainty.

"Still no clearer leads." He lowered his voice, as if talking to himself. "We might be going in the wrong direction, Peter. He might not even be active in this area."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a violent commotion came from the pocket of his suit jacket.

Peter, now transformed into Scabbers, seemed unusually agitated. His little paws scratched at the edge of the pocket, and he eagerly poked his head out, his pink nose twitching wildly and twitching incessantly in a certain direction.

Lupin immediately understood. He walked discreetly in the direction Peter indicated, while cautiously glancing around.

Peter kept adjusting the direction in his pocket, pressing his head against his chest to guide the way.

They left the open slope and ventured behind a dense thicket of vines, a secluded spot away from the path.

Lupin stepped aside to block any possible view of the distance and whispered, "Safe."

As soon as he finished speaking, his breast pocket bulged unnaturally, and the fat, gray-black rat suddenly jumped out and landed on the ground covered with fallen leaves.

Its body began to rapidly expand and deform as it landed—its fur disappeared, its limbs stretched, and moments later, the ragged, disheveled Peter the pygmy was huddled in the shadow of the bushes, nervously looking around to make sure he hadn't been discovered.

"Over there!" Peter whispered, pointing in a direction, his face a mixture of fear and a hound's excitement. "I smell it! It's him! Blake's smell! Absolutely! I've smelled it on and off several times these past few days, sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not, but today—today it's especially clear! We're very close, Remus, I'm sure of it!"

Lupin leaned against the thick tree trunk, not as excited as Peter. The lack of progress over the past few days and the cold wind had drained him; his voice carried an undisguised weariness: "Peter, you've said several times before that it was very close," but in the end, either you went in the wrong direction or the scent stopped halfway through. Are you really sure?

In this kind of weather, the smell might waft through the air —

“My nose doesn’t lie!” Peter interrupted him urgently, with a hint of hurt at being questioned. “You don’t understand, Remus, this taste is ingrained in my bones! We have to believe it!”

Lupin fell silent. He looked at Peter's dirty face, contorted with agitation, then sighed slowly and turned his gaze toward the gloomy depths of the woods.

His next words were spoken so softly, as if to himself: "It's not that I don't trust you, Peter. It's just—my sense of smell, most of the time, is no different from that of an ordinary person. Especially in times like this, when I can't help and can only rely on you."

Peter, who was immersed in the excitement of the tracking, was suddenly stunned by what he heard. He looked up, his dirty face showing an expression of disbelief, as if he had never expected Lupin to bring up the topic that was usually considered taboo and a great pain so directly and calmly.

"Remus, you—" Peter's voice was filled with genuine astonishment, even temporarily overshadowing his fear of Black. He stared intently at Lupin, as if he were truly meeting his old friend of many years for the first time. That taboo they both tacitly understood, that they dared not easily touch, had actually been spoken so casually by Remus himself on such a cold, ordinary afternoon?

Several seconds passed before Peter seemed to finally find his voice, which was terribly dry and weak, with a choking quality: "Re—Remus—" He swallowed, his filthy Adam's apple bobbing violently, "You—you know what you're saying? We—we never say this—"

Lupin turned his gaze from the gloomy woods back to Peter, whose profile appeared particularly gaunt and serene in the dim light. "After graduation, I wandered through many places, Peter. I experienced many things—things worse than being pointed at and gossiped about. Some things you can't change, you just have to accept. Constantly avoiding them won't make them disappear; it will only make them a heavier burden."

He paused, his tone devoid of self-pity or resentment, only displaying a world-weary calm: "So, there's nothing to hide. Now, the more important thing is your nose—can it really lead us directly to him?"

Peter seemed still reeling from the immense shock. He instinctively rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, his eyes darting around before refocusing. With a frantic urge to confirm something, he nodded vigorously. "Yes! Of course! Remus, I assure you! This feeling is so intense—so intense it frightens me!" He seemed to be trying to force a reassuring smile, but his lips only twitched, forming a strange and humble expression. "Shall we—shall we continue? He, he's not far ahead."

"Okay, I believe you." Lupin responded briefly, glancing around. "Then let's change back and continue."

Peter nodded quickly, his body shrinking and deforming again. Soon, the mouse named Spotted reappeared, nimbly climbing onto Lupin's palm and being placed back into the warm pocket on his chest. It continued its pursuit with only a faint snort.

Lupin tightened his suit jacket, took another step, and silently walked into the increasingly dense grove of trees in the direction Peter had indicated.

Guided by the faint scent, they walked through the dead woods and among the rocks.

Peter, in his mouse form, kept adjusting his direction inside Lupin's pocket, while Lupin silently followed, the hem of his worn-out suit fluttering in the cold wind. Finally, they parted a dense thicket of frost-covered bushes, and a bright, open space appeared before them.

Lupin stopped, his brow furrowed. Beyond the bushes lay not the deeper woods he had expected, but a gentle slope, below which he could see rooftops and wisps of smoke rising—they had actually tracked them to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

Lupin quickly shifted to the side, using the bushes and slope to conceal himself, while whispering, "Safe."

Banban jumped out of his pocket, instantly transforming back into human form upon landing. Peter-Pediru huddled behind a bush, nervously peering at the nearby village, his nose still twitching.

“He stayed here,” Peter said in a low voice, his tone certain. “The smell was strong, and he stayed for quite a while. Then—he went inside.” He pointed dejectedly in the direction of Hogsmeade. “There were too many people inside, and the smells were too mixed. I—I lost him.”

The two fell silent, staring at the bustling village. Why had Sirius Black risked infiltrating Hogsmeade? To buy food? To gather information?

Just then, Lupin's gaze fell upon several students in the distance, dressed in Hogwarts robes and carrying bags of Honeydukes candies, laughing and joking as they walked by. He froze, a fact they had overlooked suddenly becoming clear—it was Hogsmeade weekend!

"It's the weekend—" Lupin muttered, his face instantly turning grim. "The students will all be here."

These words were like a fuse ignited. Peter, as if stung, grabbed Lupin's arm abruptly, his shrill voice rising in fear: "Harry! He must be after Harry! He knows! He knows Harry will come today! Merlin—what should we do? There are so many people in the village, how are we supposed to find him? We can't protect him!"

In the instant Peter cried out, a look of struggle and helplessness flashed across Lupin's face, and it was not an act.

Having Harry in the plan, even with Lynch's repeated assurances of thorough preparation, still caused him inner turmoil.

But he had to keep playing his part.

"You're right, Peter—we can't protect him." Lupin's voice lowered, hoarse with the sound of being driven to desperation. "In the open, we're always one step behind him—like headless flies—" He closed his eyes tightly, as if under immense pressure, then suddenly opened them again, his eyes burning with a desperate, almost insane light—this was what he wanted Peter to see.

"Unless—" he said, his voice becoming urgent and dangerous, as if he had grasped the only thread in the darkness, "—unless we stop passively searching."

"Not passive? What do you mean?" Peter asked blankly, completely guided by Lupin's rhythm.

"His obsession with Harry is his only weakness," Lupin said, each word deliberate, his gaze piercing Hogsmeade as if analyzing a cold, hard battle. "If we make Harry—a clear target. A target he can't resist, a seemingly within-his-hands target—"

Peter gasped, shrank back, and looked horrified.

The moment Lupin proposed the plan, Peter realized with certainty that it was a plan with an extremely high success rate. A surge of almost terrifying elation rushed to his head, but he immediately suppressed it with an even more intense expression of fear.

I can't reveal that I'm a hero now!

"Remus! You—you're insane?" His voice trembled, one hand unconsciously clutching his unkempt hair, as if tormented by the terrible thought. "Using Harry as—as bait?! No! That's too dangerous! How could we—how could we let Harry take such a risk?! What if anything goes wrong—"

"How can we face James and Lily?!"

He objected vehemently, every syllable laced with what appeared to be genuine panic.

"Do you think I'd be willing?" Lupin's voice suddenly rose, filled with theatrical anguish and anxiety. "But tell me, Peter, what better way is there?! To play hide-and-seek with him in the village and leave Harry's safety to chance?"

He grabbed Peter's shoulders abruptly, his eyes burning with trust and dependence. "No! This is the only way to force him to show himself and stop him before he succeeds! We'll warn Harry beforehand; we have a well-thought-out plan. We'll be the hunters lurking in the shadows!"

As Peter listened to Lupin's heartfelt "persuasion," he felt he could barely suppress the twisted smile that was creeping onto his lips.

He had to lower his head, cover his face with his hands, and his shoulders trembled slightly, making it appear as if he were struggling in pain. Behind his filthy hands, a greedy and ecstatic, silent smile was now on his face.

Excellent—everything is going exactly as he wanted, even better than he imagined. Remus not only believed him, but also offered this "perfect" plan that could take care of Harry, and perhaps Black as well.

Peter listened to Lupin's explanation and stammered, "But—this is too risky—what if we fail—"

“No 'what ifs'!” Lupin interrupted him decisively. “We must succeed. For James and Lily, and for Harry. Peter, your Animagus form is key. Only you can get close to Harry without arousing his suspicion, becoming our eyes and ears. We need you—I need you. For James and Lily, we must take this risk and solve the problem once and for all!”

Under Lupin's "firm" and "trusting" gaze, Peter seemed to finally be "persuaded".

He rubbed his cheeks vigorously a few times, and when he looked up again, all the ecstasy on his face had vanished, leaving only a complex expression mixed with fear and sorrow, ultimately covered by "resoluteness." He took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind to die, and even his eyes were slightly red.

"Okay—alright, Remus." His voice was hoarse, with a weak, almost drained resolve. "You're right—we can't—we can't lose Harry again. For James and Lily—we—we'll do it!"

Hogsmeade was much livelier than usual on the weekend because of the students.

Harry walked down the cold, windswept street, his feelings a mix of emotions.

Thanks to Uncle Lynch's personal accompaniment and explanation, Professor McGonagall did not stop him with the signature sheet this time. She simply gave him a few more serious looks as he passed by before letting him go.

——————————————————————————————

Then, to his surprise, after arriving at Hogsmeade and announcing that he was free to do as he pleased, Professor McGonagall followed suit and became his "personal guardian" for this trip to Hogsmeade, citing the reason that "it is important to ensure that all students, especially those in this special time, can safely enjoy their weekend."

His main purpose in coming to Hogsmeade, as Uncle Lynch suggested, was to try to repair the relationship between Ron and Hermione that had been damaged by Scabbers.

He successfully arranged to meet the two of them, but with Professor McGonagall's highly noticeable presence, the atmosphere was destined to be tense from the start.

At first, things seemed to be going well.

Outside Honeydukes candy store, while Ron still kept a straight face and deliberately avoided looking at Hermione, Hermione took a deep breath, as if she had made a great decision, and took out a box of the latest colorful coconut ice cream from her paper bag and handed it to Ron.

"Here—here you are, Ron." Hermione's voice was a little stiff, but her eyes held genuine apology. "I remember you said you wanted to try this last time."

Ron hesitated for a moment, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the tempting box of candy and Hermione's face several times. Under Professor McGonagall's silent watchful eye, he awkwardly took the box and mumbled, "—Thank you."

The deadlock has been broken.

They started talking, though at first it was just nonsense like "There are so many people today" and "It's a bit cold," but at least it was no longer a complete cold war.

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief, feeling that Uncle Lynch's advice had indeed been effective.

However, the good times did not last long.

Although Professor McGonagall gave them space and didn't stand too close, she always stood at a distance where she could clearly see them and hear most of their conversations.

Her serious gaze was like an invisible pressure, making it impossible for the three of them to truly relax.

Ron didn't dare complain loudly, and Hermione didn't dare to offer any further explanation or argument about Scabbers, even though she seemed to want to. Harry himself felt very uncomfortable; every joke became dry, and every conversation felt like completing a classroom assignment.

Happiness is strictly limited to the scope of "propriety" and "quietness".

A little argument over choosing candy?

The situation quickly calmed down under Professor McGonagall's watchful gaze.

Want to discuss the excitement of the latest Quidditch match?

The words were hushed down to whispers and quickly dissipated in the unnatural atmosphere.

The torment of one person quickly turned into the suffering of three.

They all clearly felt the well-intentioned care from their teachers, but it felt like an overly tight sweater, making it hard for them to breathe.

Finally, when Harry passed by Zonko's Joke Shop and saw Ron gazing longingly at the prank merchandise but too afraid to go in, and Hermione looking conflicted, wanting to discuss their homework but not daring to appear too "nerdy" in front of the professor, he made up his mind.

He stopped and turned to Ron and Hermione, trying to make his voice sound relaxed and natural. "Hey, I saw a new quill pen shop open over there. Hermione, you'd love to check it out, right? Ron, you can go with her and pick out a new one for me—I, I'd like to sit at the Three Brooms for a bit and have some peace and quiet." He glanced quickly at Professor McGonagall not far away and added, "Right there, won't wander off."

Ron and Hermione immediately understood Harry's intention.

Ron looked relieved but also a little guilty, while Hermione looked at Harry with concern.

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