Second Intrusion

That was the end of Skylar and Hermione's first long, one-on-one conversation.

After separating, Skylar and Hermione returned safely to their respective dorm rooms, but poor Harry wasn't so lucky.

He went out to look for Hermione, but not only did he not find Hermione, he was also caught by Filch and spent most of the night copying the school rules in Filch's office until his hands were almost broken before he was allowed to leave.

A short while later, feeling utterly exhausted, Harry had just lain down on the bed when he felt as if he had fallen asleep instantly... He had a very strange dream. He was carrying Firebolt on his shoulder, walking through a forest, following a silvery-white thing. The thing weaved and twisted through the bushes ahead, and he could only see it appearing and disappearing among the leaves.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh--! No no no no no no no--!"

Harry woke with a start, as if he'd been punched in the face. Just then, he heard noises around him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice came from the other end of the room. "What's going on?"

Harry thought he heard the dormitory door slam shut. He finally found the opening in the curtains, pulled them open, and just then, Dean Thomas turned on the light.

Ron sat bolt upright in bed, the curtains yanked aside, his face contorted with utter terror. "Black! Sirius Black Black! He's got a knife!"

"Right here! Just now! He ripped the bed curtains! And woke me up!" Ron continued shouting.

Dean questioned whether Ron was dreaming, but Ron's torn bed curtains suggested it wasn't a ridiculous dream. The five boys ran downstairs at full speed. Behind them, dormitory doors opened one by one, and many sleepy voices asked them questions.

Who was shouting just now?

What are you doing?

The embers in the fireplace illuminated the common room, which was littered with trash left over from the party and was completely empty. Then, a few girls came down the stairs, wearing pajamas and yawning. Next, the boys appeared one by one.

"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy shouted as he hurried to the common room, pinning his Head Boy badge to his pajamas.

"Percy — Sirius Black Black!" Ron said weakly, "In our dorm! with a knife! He woke me up!"

The common room fell silent. A moment later, Professor McGonagall appeared. She slammed the hole in the portrait behind her shut as she entered, then furiously surveyed the room. "Gryffindor the match, I'm happy, but what you're doing is ridiculous! Percy, I was hoping you'd do even better!"

"I certainly didn't tell them to do that, Professor!" Percy tried to appear more serious, though he looked somewhat comical in his pajamas and the Head Boy's badge. "I'm telling them all to go back to bed! My brother Ron had a nightmare—"

"It's not a nightmare!" Ron shouted. "Professor, I'm awake, Sirius Black Black is standing in front of me with a knife!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him, not believing Ron's words. However, at Ron's insistence, she still asked Sir Cadogan, who was guarding the entrance to the common room, "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man into the Gryffindor Tower?"

"Of course, madam!" Sir Cadogan exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall could hardly believe it. She immediately pressed Sir Cadogan for details about the password, only to receive an even more surprising answer— Black had the password for the entire week, which he had read from a small piece of paper.

Professor McGonagall emerged from the hole in the portrait, her face as white as chalk, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "Which fool wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around everywhere?"

A hush fell over the room, then a tiny, startled voice broke the silence.

Neville Longbottom slowly raised his hand.

That night, no one slept in the Gryffindor Tower. Everyone knew the castle had been searched again, and the entire Gryffindor House waited in the common room to hear if Black had been caught. At dawn, Professor McGonagall returned and told everyone that Black had escaped again.

The next day, wherever they went, they saw that security measures had been strengthened.

Professor Flitwick was showing each of the front door guards a large photograph of Black; Filch was suddenly running back and forth in the corridor, plugging up every crack in the wall and every mouse hole. And Sir Cadogan, whose brain was slick with oil and glue, was dismissed—his portrait was put back on the deserted Seventh Floor landing.

Then, the Fat Lady returned. The Board of Governors hired a professional magic painter to restore Fat Lady portrait, but she remained extremely nervous. Her return to work came with a condition—she demanded extra protection. A group of burly, Troll security guards were hired to protect her. They patrolled the corridors in groups of three or five, looking menacing and comparing the size of their clubs.

These Troll guards aren't the Mountain Troll that Skylar defeated in his first year. They're a new species bred by wizards over generations. They lack the terrifying odor and possess more humanity and intelligence, though their IQ still doesn't reach human levels. In the wizarding world, there's a profession dedicated to training these Troll, turning them into qualified Troll guards—this profession is called "Troll Trainer."

In the Britain wizarding world, there are several companies responsible for training Troll security personnel, but without exception, the Ministry of Magic has its shadow behind them. The Ministry of Magic would not allow private companies to freely produce weapons that can be used for military purposes. Although ordinary people are clueless about these things, Skylar knows very well that the largest shareholder of these Troll security companies is the Ministry of Magic itself.

Because of this incident, Ron became a minor celebrity. Although he was still shaken by what happened that night, whenever someone asked, he would excitedly recount the events of that night, adding many exaggerated details. It was the first time in his life that Ron had received such treatment, and he clearly enjoyed the experience of being in the spotlight.

After being punished by the furious Professor McGonagall, the unfortunate Neville was forbidden from going to Hogsmeade Village again. Not only that, she also put Neville in solitary confinement, forbidding anyone from giving him the pass to enter the tower. Poor Neville could only wait in the common room every night, hoping someone could take him in—and whenever he did, the Troll guards would always mock him with unpleasant words.

However, none of these punishments could compare to what his grandmother Augusta Longbottom, had prepared for him. Two days after Black stormed into the tower, she sent Neville something—the worst thing a Hogwarts student could possibly receive at breakfast— Howler.

That day, the school's owl flew into the Great Hall, delivering mail as usual. Just then, a huge barn owl landed in front of him, carrying a scarlet envelope in its beak. Neville was dumbfounded. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, immediately recognized it as a Howler — Ron had received one from his mother last year.

"Run, Neville!" Ron urged him hastily.

Neville didn't need to say it a second time. He grabbed the envelope and ran out of the Great Hall like he was carrying a bomb, and the Slytherin students burst into laughter at the sight. Soon, they heard the Howler explode in the Entrance Hall —it was Neville's grandmother's voice, a hundred times louder than usual, as she shrieked that Neville had brought shame upon the entire family.

At the Slytherin table, Daphne cast a Muffliato on those around her before whispering, "Skylar, you were right, Black has returned."

Meredith glanced contemptuously in Ron's direction. "Those Gryffindor idiots probably think Black was scared away by them—shameless... If Black's target really was Harry, facing five weak boys, four of whom were still asleep, the fact that he didn't choose to kill them to silence them contradicts the rumors of his ruthlessness. It seems there's more to the story behind Black's imprisonment!"

She was used to Skylar's strategic planning and keen insight, so seeing Ron's the Clown performance, she naturally felt utterly contemptuous of him.

Astoria blinked her adorable big eyes and asked, "Skylar, what do you think Black really wants?"

Skylar replied confidently, "We can narrow down the possibilities now. What Black is after is definitely something from Harry's bedroom, most likely Ron's belongings, since he chose to tear Ron's bed curtains first. Although the Weasley are an old Pure-blood families, we all know they're dirt poor—so Sickle be ruled out. So what else would Black risk so much to steal?"

Daphne's lips curled into a confident smile. "Black has no family, no relatives, no ties. The only thing that could drive him so obsessed is one thing—hatred! A deep-seated hatred! What he's looking for must be related to revenge."

Skylar shrugged. "What he really wants, only he knows. We've deduced enough for now. Whether Black's loyalty was with Black 'Dumbledore Order of the Order of the Phoenix or the Dark Lord's Death Eaters is none of our business. Our families have no grudge against him. If he wants revenge, his target is most likely not us. We can just sit back and watch."

Daphne asked cautiously, "So—we're not going to do anything?"

Skylar gave him a mysterious look. "Who knows?"

That evening, Harry and Ron left the Gryffindor House tower, jogging past the Troll guards and heading straight for the Entrance Hall —where Hagrid was already waiting for them.

"I have something to discuss with both of you." Hagrid sat down between them, his expression serious, quite unlike his usual demeanor. "It's about Hermione."

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked.

"She's fine, that's the problem... She's come to see me many times since Christmas, and often says she doesn't know what to say to you..." Hagrid suddenly shook his head again, "No, not that... I meant she keeps saying she's lonely because first you ignored her because of the Firebolt, then you took Firebolt back; now you're not talking to her anymore, just because of her cat..."

"It ate Scabbers!" Ron interrupted Hagrid angrily.

"Because her cat did what all cats do," Hagrid continued stubbornly. "She's cried several times. You know, she's having a tough time right now, she's trying to do too much... If you ask me, she has too many things to do... But she still makes time to help me prepare for Buckbeak's case."

"Hagrid, we should have helped you, I'm sorry..." Harry said awkwardly.

"I'm not blaming you!" Hagrid clearly didn't care. "You two already have plenty to do. I've seen you training day and night on the Quidditch Pitch... But I must tell you, I think you two should value your friendship more than Broomstick and mice. That's all I have to say."

Harry and Ron both felt somewhat ashamed of Hagrid's sincere advice, but their thoughts were also related to their respective personalities.