It hadn't been long since the door to the Headmaster's office creaked open, and in swept Severus Snape—cloaked in black, face drawn tight with disdain. His eyes scanned the room with sharp calculation, pausing as they landed on Cael, seated calmly near the hearth, then dropping to the man sprawled unconscious on the floor.
Sirius Black.
Snape's reaction was instant and furious. He drew his wand, voice cold and cutting.
"Sectumsempra!" he snarled—the incantation of a custom spell, his own creation, flashing from his wand with lethal intent toward Sirius's neck.
But before it struck, the spell was intercepted with a sharp flick of Dumbledore's wand, shimmering into nothing.
"Calm yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, rising from behind his desk. "You will not cast spells at someone whose guilt has yet to be proven."
Snape turned to him, livid.
"Innocent? You call him innocent?" His voice shook with rage. "You expect me to stand by while he walks free? The man responsible for her death? The reason—" Snape's voice cracked, barely restraining himself. "The reason she's gone?"
Dumbledore's expression didn't waver. "I understand your pain, Severus. But no one is to be harmed until we know the truth. Restraint must be shown, even when it hurts."
"You and your cursed second chances, Dumbledore," Snape spat bitterly. "Always offering redemption to the worst of them." His eyes were burning. "Even him."
"Everyone deserves a second chance," Dumbledore said, quieter now. "Even you did once. And it was granted."
Snape looked away, jaw clenched. His gaze landed again on Cael and narrowed.
"What's he doing here? Did he get caught aiding his precious uncle?"
Cael, calm and composed, met Snape's glare without flinching.
"Well, Professor," he said smoothly, "it was me who caught my precious uncle, actually."
Snape didn't reply. He merely sneered and turned away.
Dumbledore broke the tension with a quiet question. "Did you bring the potion?"
Snape nodded stiffly, drawing a small crystal phial from his robes. He handed it to Dumbledore, who gently knelt by Sirius and carefully poured the clear, bitter-smelling draught between the unconscious man's lips.
Moments later, the door opened again.
It was Remus Lupin.
"Albus," he said breathlessly, stepping into the room. "I heard… they've caught Sirius?"
Snape scoffed under his breath. "Yes, yes. Come join us. Your dear friend is here."
Lupin didn't acknowledge the jab. His eyes went directly to Sirius's body, brow furrowed with a mixture of worry and disbelief.
Sirius began to stir. His limbs twitched, breath caught in his throat, and his eyes blinked open—wild, confused, until they focused on the silver-haired wizard above him.
"Professor Dumbledore…" he croaked, voice rough from years of silence.
But before anyone could speak further, a sharp crack filled the room. Sirius stiffened, frozen in place once more by a sudden hex.
All heads turned.
Snape stood with wand raised, the spell fresh on his lips.
"He was trying to flee," Snape said coldly, as if daring someone to argue.
Cael rolled his eyes and thought . 'Honestly, this old virgin just wants to torment him.`
Dumbledore muttered the counter-curse, and Sirius stirred again, this time coughing violently as he sat up. He glared at Snape.
"Snivellus...."
Cael had to bite his cheek to stop the laugh rising in his throat. The way Sirius had said it—half venom, half disbelief—it was absurdly theatrical. He turned away, shoulders shaking with stifled laughter. No one addressed it. Best to pretend it didn't happen.
Just then, Professor McGonagall swept into the office. She closed the door behind her with a firm click and stood silently by the threshold, waiting.
Dumbledore turned to Sirius, his voice grave.
"Tell me, Sirius. Why did you betray James Potter? Why did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"
The very mention of Peter's name transformed Sirius. His eyes flared, and he struggled to his feet, fury igniting his face.
"I'm going to kill him!" he shouted. "That rat—I swear, I'll kill him!"
"Calm yourself!" Dumbledore commanded, casting a softening charm that dulled the edges of Sirius's fury. "Answer the question. Did you give James and Lily's location to the Dark Lord?"
Sirius's eyes brimmed with rage and desperation.
"No! No, it wasn't me! It was him! Wormtail! Peter! He was their Secret Keeper. He gave them up!"
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "But Peter Pettigrew is dead."
Sirius shook his head violently. "He's not! I didn't kill him. He killed those Muggles himself! He blew the street apart and escaped—left behind a few fingers to fake his death."
Snape stepped forward, furious. "You expect us to believe this?"
But Dumbledore raised a hand. "The Dark Lord himself said you were the one who betrayed them. He named you."
Sirius's voice broke. "Because I convinced James to switch—to make Peter the Secret Keeper. I thought it would be safer. No one would suspect Peter. I—I was wrong. Lily's dead because of me…"
At the mention of Lily's name, Snape stiffened. His knuckles whitened around his wand, the very air around him trembling with suppressed rage.
"We must verify this," Lupin said urgently. "If Sirius claims that Peter is alive, then we need to find him—and hear the truth."
Dumbledore nodded. "Where is he, Sirius? Where is Wormtail?"
"He's here," Sirius rasped, "at Hogwarts."
"What?" McGonagall said sharply.
Sirius grinned darkly. "He's with that Weasley boy. The rat. That's him."
Cael raised his eyebrows . "You mean Ron's rat? Scabbers?"
McGonagall blanched. "Are you saying there's an unregistered Animagus among the students?"
Without waiting another second, she turned and stormed from the room.
⸻
The Gryffindor common room was silent when Professor McGonagall entered, sweeping up the stairs like a storm. She reached the third-year boys' dormitory and flung open the door.
"Mr. Weasley," she called, voice clipped.
Ron groaned, still half-asleep. "Yes, Professor—sorry—I didn't finish my homework, but I swear I'll copy Hermione's—"
"Mr. Weasley." Her lips twitched, but she suppressed it. "Wake up. Now."
He sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "Is Sirius Black attacking again?"
"Where is your rat?"
Ron blinked. "Scabbers? He's in his box—he's not feeling well, Professor—"
She crossed the room in three strides, opened the box, and immediately the small rat darted out, bolting for cover.
"Scabbers! Don't run!" Ron shouted.
But McGonagall was quicker. With a precise flick of her wand, she froze the creature in mid-sprint. Ron gasped.
"Professor, what are you doing?!"
"I need to examine something. Don't worry—I'll return him."
With Scabbers floating, stiff and lifeless in the air, she marched back through the castle. As she walked, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her feline instincts were screaming at her to destroy the thing. Mice were not to be trusted.
She returned to the Headmaster's office and set the frozen rat gently on the desk.
"Professor Dumbledore," she announced, "I've brought Mr. Weasley's rat."
All eyes in the room turned to the creature—still frozen, still seemingly harmless.