A New Week

Sirius Black didn't know how much it would cost to raise a daughter, but he roughly knew that earning enough to feed and clothe two people in Muggle society was no easy task, at least it wasn't easy when he first arrived.

However, things got a little easier after the convenience store owner took him in.

Sirius Black looked at the warehouse piled high with goods, quickly ate the apple he was holding in his mouth, spat the small core into the trash can, licked his fingers, and rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work, when suddenly there was a knock on the skylight of the warehouse room.

Da da da—

Da da da—

A beautiful tawny owl tapped on the window with its sharp beak, its eyes fixed on him.

Sirius Black scratched his head. Who would send him a message at this time?

Without thinking too much, he grabbed the aluminum alloy triangular folding ladder from the doorway, skillfully unfolded the ladder, climbed up, and opened the skylight. The owl flapped its wings and flew in.

Sirius Black took an apple from his pocket to reward the postman, then took the parchment letter from its paw and unfolded it to read:

Sirius Black:

Hey, it's me, your old friend Lupin Remus. You probably already heard about Wormtail Peter's escape this summer; he's been brought to justice, and just last week, the Daily Prophet reported that the Dementor gave him a deep kiss. Believe me, you're no more surprised to hear this news than you were to start writing this letter. But I think he deserves it.

Dumbledore said that dwelling on the past and wallowing in sorrow are of no use, so I wish you a safe journey, especially after seeing your mention in the last letter of a whole loaf of bread in Muggle trash can. If you hadn't said you'd found a stable job, I would have urged you to come back, even if it meant taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

For a wanderer, the hardest thing in a life of constant displacement isn't hunger, thirst, or cold, but the loneliness of being alone on a rainy night. When lightning tears through the clouds, a massive anvil, accompanied by thunder, crashes into the boiling, as thick as tar-like night. The wandering wizard always suspects it's the sky groaning as if under Cruciatus Curse. Even now, I still dream of that scene: the clouds disperse, and the Werewolf moon rises in the north.

Although I don't know why you started wandering, I wish you a warm and lasting place of refuge.

Best wishes

Sirius Black held the letter, staring blankly at the ink stains on the parchment, lost in thought.

"Wormtail Peter... Wormtail..."

Having been away from the Wizarding World for less than a year, he found that Dementor and Azkaban were very distant things, almost as distant as when the Marauders were studying at Hogwarts.

For a long time, he desperately wanted to kill Wormtail Peter, to avenge James and Lily, to avenge his ten years in Azkaban, and even to avenge the Morgan.

Upon suddenly learning that Wormtail Peter had been kissed by Dementor, his thoughts became chaotic, and memories of Wormtail flooded his mind...

The Wormtail, which seemed reliable when the Secret Keeper was changed.

The Wormtail that blew up the street.

The captured Wormtail...

The final image freezes on that night long, long ago, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, at the Gryffindor table.

The newly assigned Gryffindor freshmen were chattering and introducing themselves, except for a short, chubby boy in the corner who seemed timid and afraid to speak.

James draped his arm over his shoulder and patted him on the shoulder. "And you, what's your name?"

Sirius Black turned his head and saw the chubby boy trembling as he replied, "Little, Wormtail, Peter."

Perhaps due to the recent rainy days and heavy humidity, the ink on the letter paper has become somewhat blurred, with a few letters appearing indistinct and distorted, much like the reader's thoughts.

A sense of catharsis and satisfaction, a feeling of melancholy and regret... it seems like it has both, yet it seems like it has neither.

Sirius Black couldn't explain it; he'd never been good at it.

Before he could sort out his jumbled thoughts, a woman's voice called from the hallway outside, "Sirius Black! Are you done? How much longer?"

"Quickly, almost there, Mrs. Carver!" Sirius Black shouted in response, hurriedly grabbing the ballpoint pen used for checking inventory lists and scribbling a sentence on the back of the letter.

Sirius Black scooped up the owl that was pecking at an apple, stepped onto the folding ladder, stuffed the letter into its claws, and lifted the owl out of the skylight. He muttered, "Sorry, sorry, it's urgent. I'll have Remus treat you to some rat jerky later."

The bewildered owl belatedly realized what was happening and wanted to scold the rude wizard, but with an apple still in its beak, it could only angrily flap its wing and fly away.

After the frantic scramble, Sirius Black stood on the folding ladder and breathed a sigh of relief. If Mrs. Carver had seen the owl delivering the message, it would have been troublesome to explain.

The woman in the brown coat pushed open the door to the warehouse room and immediately saw the man on the folding ladder. She asked in surprise, "What are you doing, Sirius Black? Is the skylight broken?"

She was an ordinary woman, probably in her early thirties, with some wrinkles around her eyes. Her skin was in good condition, delicate and fair. Her face wasn't particularly exquisite, but it was very pleasing to the eye.

"Mrs. Carver!" Sirius Black panicked and lost his balance, his body swaying a few times along with the folding ladder.

Mrs. Carver quickly stepped forward to hold the ladder steady, and only breathed a sigh of relief after Sirius Black was settled. Then she complained, "I asked you to take inventory, why did you take inventory of the windows?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carver," Sirius Black quickly apologized.

"I already told you, Sirius Black, just call me Betty." Mrs. Carver didn't dwell on the matter, and as she spoke, she deftly put the folding ladder back against the wall. "Mr. Black, would you like me to call you that?"

Before Sirius Black could answer, Betty started laughing to herself, "Mr. Black, Mr. Black, hehehe..."

"That's not what I meant." Sirius Black hesitated for a moment, then nodded and called out with some difficulty, "Betty."

Betty chuckled softly, picked up the order form and pen, and began to count the goods. "To be honest, Sirius Black, your name doesn't sound like that of a homeless person at all."

Sirius Black didn't answer, but followed behind her, silently moving the cargo boxes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up. This world is cruel enough as it is." Betty held her pen, making a light scratching sound as she wrote on the order form. "By the way, Sirius Black, are you free this weekend? I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"You say."

"Marjorie is having trouble with her Halloween costume; she doesn't want to dress up as the same kind of monster as her classmates."

"You mean?"

"Ha, you've told many interesting ghost stories. Marjorie would like to ask you for a favor."

Monday mornings were still tough for the Divination Class.

Loren and the others had to walk through long corridors and climb ever-changing staircases to get to Trelawney's suffocating tower classroom, where they had to grit their teeth and decipher all sorts of strange shapes and symbols.

Divination Class, Hermione still had to grit her teeth and go to her Ancient Rune, her head still groggy from the incense smoke.

Thanks to Professor Babbling's care, she had to stand up and answer questions in every class, so she had to concentrate fully during class and couldn't be distracted at all.

After the elective courses, there were still Transfiguration and Charms. By the end of the morning, the girl was listless, spoke weakly, and had little appetite.

At the Gryffindor table, Loren stared intently at the lamb chop on his plate, contemplating his dessert choice. "According to the omens of tea in the Divination Class, if I can finish this lamb chop in three bites, I'll choose mango pudding; if not, I'll choose Strawberry Mousse."

Hermione looked at him amusedly, snatched the lamb chop, and ate it in a few bites.

Meeting Loren's questioning gaze, Hermione innocently shrugged. "So now, has the tea leaf told you what to choose in this situation?"

Loren pondered for a few seconds, nodded, and then suddenly looked up at her with a fierce expression. "This means I have to eat your dessert too."

Hermione quickly protected the strawberry cake on the plate, like a little squirrel guarding its food, and stuffed it into her mouth in big bites, her cheeks bulging out.

"Huh~"

"Uh~"

Hermione heard disgusted and groaning sounds from her two roommates next to her.

Lavender Brown shook his head, a meaningful smile on his face. "I don't remember learning this in Divination Class, Parvati, what about you?"

"Neither do I," Parvati Patil replied seriously, then burst out laughing.

Hermione's face flushed with laughter as she hurriedly swallowed the last bite of cake. Because she ate too quickly, she let out a cute little burp, making the girls blush even more.

Parvati and Lavender whispered some more teasing in Hermione's ear, then the two of them skipped and hopped out of the Great Hall, hand in hand.

Loren then finished his two desserts, patted his slightly bulging belly, and let out a satisfied sigh.

He turned to Hermione and said, "Have they gone back to their dorms? There's still a while before afternoon classes. Do you want to go back to your dorms and rest too?"

Hermione shook her head. "Instead of going back to their dorms, they went to the tower to find Professor Trelawney and ask him for a way to avoid the disaster?"

"They still believe in Professor Trelawney's Divination?"

"The professor Prophecy that Lavender's biggest fear would happen on October 16th. With October 16th fast approaching, Lavender is getting more and more scared and hasn't been sleeping well lately..." Hermione shrugged. "Anyway, Professor Trelawney doesn't cheat people out of money, so they decided to go and talk to the professor."

"So, what is she most afraid of?" Loren asked, puzzled.

"Lavender doesn't know either."

Harry and Ron took advantage of every spare moment to hang out at the Quidditch Pitch, Hermione went back to her dorm to rest after lunch, and Loren, having nothing else to do, left the Common Room and went to the Room of Requirement.

In the simulated Snape office, Loren sat behind his desk, leaning forward, his right hand supporting his chin, seemingly lost in deep thought.

In the dimly lit room, various bottles and jars contained unidentified creatures. In a clear glass jar, the Snake Scale gleamed with a chilling green light, and tiny bubbles rose from the murky liquid, suggesting the snake was not yet dead. A rustling sound came from the storage room at the back, where sealed boxes held all sorts of living things...

Any young wizard who enters this room will feel a chilling cold that involuntarily raises goosebumps on their skin.

Dark Arts requires the caster to harbor evil intentions. Loren sat there for a while, but he couldn't understand the mindset of the Dark Arts master Severus Snape. He didn't have any evil intentions; instead, he was thinking about brewing Potions.

Loren's long, slender fingers flipped through the pages of the book on the table; he had read the contents many times before.

Based on the degree of negative impact brought by the talisman, malicious talismans can be roughly divided into three categories: evil curses, poisonous curses, and curses.

Curses and poison curses are not strictly speaking Dark Arts; they include Repelling Charm and Extraction Curse.

Only curses that cause intense, irreversible pain or damage can be considered Dark Arts. They require the caster to harbor intense malice, and Loren attempted to instill this malice in Snape.

Progress is slow.

After Harry and Ron gave Hagrid their advice Sunday, Flobberworm indeed didn't show up again in the Care of Magical Creatures.

On the clearing at the Edge of the Forbidden Forest, the young wizards of Gryffindor and Slytherin stared intently at the professor standing in the middle, their eyes unblinking; some of the young Witch even had a gleam in their eyes.

"This week, the little one we're learning about is— the Fairy." Hagrid held a colorful little figure in his large, fan-like hand.

This is a small humanoid creature, only the size of a finger. Its wings are very similar to those of insects, a thin, transparent layer that reflects iridescent light in the sunlight, sparkling brightly.

"Fairy usually live in woodlands or forest clearings. These little creatures aren't very clever, and they don't hide from people. Moreover, they are vain and will constantly dress themselves up, often allowing wizards to use them as decorations," Hagrid explained loudly.

Some of the little Witch gasped softly, already imagining how beautiful it would be if these pretty little creatures hung in their hair!

The little Fairy in Hagrid's palm, whether in agreement or disagreement, responded to the young wizards' exclamations with a high-pitched buzzing sound.

"... The Fairy lay their eggs on the undersides of leaves, up to fifty eggs at a time. These eggs hatch into brightly colored larvae, which then spin cocoons after six to ten days. A month later, the adult Fairy emerge from their cocoons. The Bowtruckle feed on the Fairy eggs..."

Loren turned to Hermione and whispered, "This sounds like some kind of bug, like a caterpillar, or maybe it's a mutated bug."

"Shut up!" Hermione rolled her eyes at him; the pretty little Fairy had become a worm in his mouth.

After Hagrid finished explaining the key points, he reached out and tickled the little guy's toes, making it giggle and fly away.

He turned his gaze to the group of young wizards. "There are Fairy in the nearby woods. They'll be very lively after the heavy rain. The task for this lesson is—before class ends, you must persuade at least one Fairy to hang on your clothes!"