Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 485 486: Sirius Black

"Happy birthday, Harry."

Sean tucked his wand back into the Wizard's Tome. The Dursleys could have sworn

they had never seen a book so singular; a slender, pale hand actually reached

out from its pages. With a sharp snap of its fingers, a beautifully wrapped,

multi-colored gift box materialized out of thin air.

Harry cradled the box, biting his lip in silence. But the Dursleys were reaching

their breaking point.

"You have to change her back! Fix her!" Vernon bellowed. He didn't dare direct

his rage at Sean, so he turned his fury toward Harry instead.

"You promised me you'd make her be polite!" Harry shot back, refusing to back

down.

Vernon was shaking so violently with rage that he actually failed to find a

retort. "So it's your birthday, is it, boy? Well, you can forget your birthday!

And that cursed Hogsmeade place—you're never going! Not a single one of us is

signing that bloody form!" Vernon hopped from foot to foot, purple in the face.

Harry stared down at his plate, his ears ringing. He felt paralyzed. What was he

supposed to do? He couldn't think. Uncle Vernon's voice was like a pneumatic

drill, boring straight into his skull.

Then, a figure stepped between Harry and the Dursleys.

"Harry, do you want to leave this place?" the young wizard asked.

"I..." Harry hesitated.

"It's alright. You have plenty of time to decide," Sean's voice was calm,

drifting like a cool breeze through the stifling room. "In the many languages of

humanity, beyond crying or asking for help, there should always be room for an

'I don't know.' If you feel lost, then simply follow me."

At that moment, Uncle Vernon had seized one of Aunt Marge's feet, trying to pull

her down, but instead, he was nearly hoisted off the floor himself. To make

matters worse, Ripper the bulldog lunged forward and sank his teeth into

Vernon's leg.

"I'm... I'm coming with you." Harry finally found his resolve.

He didn't want to think about how much Petunia or Vernon had supposedly changed,

or whether he was doing the right thing. He certainly didn't want to dwell on

another word Aunt Marge had said. He wanted out. And he wanted to go with Sean.

Before anyone could stop him, Harry bolted from the dining room toward the

cupboard under the stairs. As he reached it, the door swung open by itself—a

touch of magic. He looked back to see Sean giving him a small, encouraging

smile.

In a matter of seconds, he had dragged his trunk to the front door. He sprinted

upstairs, dived under his bed, pried up the loose floorboard, and snatched the

pillowcase stuffed with his textbooks and birthday presents. He scrambled back

out, grabbed Hedwig's empty cage, and thundered down the stairs toward his

trunk.

Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg shredded and stained

with blood. "Come back here! Fix her!" he roared.

But Harry was past caring. He kicked the lid of his trunk shut. "She deserved

it," Harry panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "She got exactly what was

coming to her. Now get out of my way."

He reached into the alcove for his remaining books. In the living room, the

television was still on. A newsreader was speaking:

"...reminding the public that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special

hotline has been opened, and any sightings of Black should be reported

immediately."

Hearing this, Vernon cast a murderous look at the screen and shouted, "When will

they learn? The only way to deal with their sort is a short rope and a long

drop!"

He spoke the words, yet he didn't even dare look toward the front door—even

though the wind had already blown it shut.

The night seemed to descend with unnatural speed.

Sean felt a peculiar prickle on the back of his neck, the distinct sensation of

being watched. He scanned the street, but it was deserted; the large, square

houses showed not a single glimmer of light. It wasn't that he heard something,

but rather he felt a presence—something or someone lurking in the narrow gap

between the garage and the fence behind him.

Sean stared into the pitch-black alley. He didn't need the shadow to move to

know what it was. He lifted a finger, and a bead of brilliant light hovered at

his fingertip. It was a wandless, non-verbal Lumos.

The light reflected sharply off the pebble-dash wall of the garage at Number

Two. There, in the gap, Sean saw the distinct, hulking outline of something

black, punctuated by a pair of wide, gleaming eyes. He walked toward it. The

creature seemed poised to flee, but for some reason, it held its ground.

Sean saw it clearly now: a massive, skeletal black dog with matted fur. Only its

eyes held a fierce, intelligent light. As Sean approached, the dog let out a

low, warning growl.

"I don't speak 'Dog,' which makes this difficult," Sean mused to himself. "So,

would you mind terribly, Mr. Sirius Black, transforming into a wizard so we

might have a chat?"

The black dog looked provoked, tensing its muscles as if to spring at Sean. But

its movement was checked by a small figure in a butler's uniform who appeared

instantly.

"You will keep your distance from my Master! Impertinent beast!"

Will the Pukwudgie butler pinned the dog against the wall, his bowstring drawn

tight, an arrow leveled at the animal's throat. The dog stared fixedly at the

young wizard—staring into those emerald-green eyes.

"Do as my Master says. Don't make me use a Revelio," the goblin-like creature

barked.

Sirius Black finally shifted. He didn't know how he had been seen, nor did he

know what this remarkably young wizard intended. But he knew Harry was leaving

with him. For Harry's sake, he had to know this wizard's purpose.

A moment later, a truly gaunt, haggard man stood before Sean. His clothes were

rags, and his waxy skin was stretched so tight over his cheekbones that he

looked like a skull. His filthy, tangled hair fell past his elbows. Were it not

for the burning light in his sunken eyes, he would have looked like a corpse. He

glared at Sean with a savage intensity.

"Who are you? Who do you work for?" he rasped.

"I am Sean Green. I work for myself," Sean replied.

"Don't play games with me! What is your aim? Where are you taking Harry?!"

Sirius hissed, his eyes darting around for a chance to break free.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Sean said simply.

Sirius was genuinely baffled. Was the wizard before him truly ignorant of who he

was, or was he feigning it? He was a fugitive! A mass murderer! Yet this boy

showed him not a shred of the expected fear or "respect" for his reputation. If

he wasn't one of the Dark Lord's followers, and he wasn't from the Ministry...

then what was he?

"Heh... heh heh..." The skeletal man let out a dry, raspy laugh. It was a

chilling sound.

Immediately, the tip of a magical arrow pressed against his cheek. "Show some

respect to my Master, convict!" the small creature snarled, its fury rising.

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