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𝕿HE MORNING LIGHT STREAMED THROUGH THE WINDOWS, casting a golden glow over the long tables filled with students having breakfast. As students ate their breakfast, the chatter in the room was gentle. You sat at the Ravenclaw table, your plate half filled with toast and fruit, though your attention drifted more toward the atmosphere than the food in front of you.

Cho was sitting beside you, cheerfully discussing the Quidditch with Roger, Isaac, and Marietta. The Quidditch players were deep into tactics and strategies, though Marietta often found herself just nodding along.

On the other side of you, Kyra talked with Indie and Luna from across the table about how she wondered where Professor Lupin was as he failed to show up to breakfast.

Since the previous day had been a full moon, you could've only guessed that Lupin's disappearance had something to do with the fact that he was recovering from transforming into a werewolf.

You and Luna listened to Kyra and Indie's theories with smiles as you occasionally glanced toward the head table where the professors were seated. Sat at the center was Dumbledore, his expression serene but watchful as he surveyed the hall. Professor McGonagall was next to him, her posture as straight and rigid as always, though her eyes flickered toward Dumbledore, as if waiting for the moment he would stand and speak.

Soon enough, the familiar sound of a spoon tapping against a goblet rang out, clear and commanding enough to instantly silence the hall. Every head turned toward the front as Dumbledore rose to his feet, his robes rustling slightly as he moved.

"Good morning, students," Dumbledore began, his voice deep yet kind, echoing through the hall. "I trust you have all had a restful night and are ready for the day's lessons. Before we begin, I have a brief announcement to make."

Every student leaned forward slightly, interested in what their headmaster had to say and your curiosity piqued.

"I am displeased to inform you that Professor Lupin has stepped down from the mantle of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore continued, his hands clasped in front of him.

Kyra gave you a quick and confused look, quietly mouthing, "But it's only halfway into the school year?"

"Fortunately, we have several faculty members more than qualified to oversee the class for the remainder of the year," Dumbledore added, his calm and reassuring tone carrying across the room.

The students murmured quietly among themselves, exchanging curious glances. It wasn't often that a professor left mid-year, and the uncertainty of who would step in to fill the gap hung in the air.

"You need not worry," Dumbledore informed, his voice rising slightly to cut through the whispers. "Your education will proceed uninterrupted, and you will continue to receive the highest quality of instruction." With that, the headmaster sat back down, though the murmur of conversation continued to hum throughout the hall.

A ripple of confusion and surprise spread through the students. Kyra's brows knitted together as she exchanged bewildered glances with Indie and Luna. You could hear fragments of conversations all around you — questions about what had happened to Professor Lupin and why he would leave so abruptly.

"But he's the best Defense teacher we've had," Isaac murmured as he sat in front of Cho and next to Luna, his expression looking stunned.

Cho frowned, clearly disheartened by the news. "I really liked him. He actually made the subject interesting."

You felt a pang of sadness at the announcement. Professor Lupin had been one of the few teachers who seemed to genuinely care about his students, and you had always found his lessons engaging. His departure felt sudden, but knowing what you knew about his condition, it made sense. Still, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to resign halfway through the year. Was it his lycanthropy becoming too much to handle? Or was there something more to it?

The previous night then flashed across your mind — from seeing Sirius Black to finding out Harry had helped him escape — and suddenly it seemed like everything may have been a coincidence, or maybe it wasn't.

Just as you had begun to piece things together, your eyes caught with Harry's and he gazed at you with a distressed expression, a red graze painted across his right cheek. He attempted to give you a friendly wave paired with a smile, but you quickly turned away.

After all, you feared for your life now after knowing that Harry knew — and was friendly with — a serial killer.

Sitting with Indie and Kyra during study hall, the chatter of surrounding students flowed around you. Some things slipped past your ears, but one thing caught your attention from not very far away.

"Stand back, I said! Or... Or I'll take it upstairs if you don't settle," Ron threatened, though it was quite weak and didn't come out very intimidating.

"Harry!" Neville called out, rushing through the crowd to approach the boy who had just entered the Great Hall. You ducked down instinctively, subtly hiding behind Kyra, who gazed at you in confusion before turning back to talk to Indie. "Wherever did you get it?"

"Can I have a go, Harry? After you, of course," Seamus piped up, seemingly just as excited as Neville was, but Harry continued to walk with a confused expression plastered on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned.

"Quiet. Let the man through," Ron told them, clutching onto his crutch. "I-I didn't mean to open it, Harry. It was badly wrapped. They made me do it." With a point of his finger, Ron accused his twin older brothers.

"Did not," they defended in synchronization.

Students blocked your view of what they crowded around, but you could hear the faint noise of unwrapping over the sound of chatter. "It's a fire bolt."

"It's the fastest broom in the world."

"It's a fire bolt!"

"For me?" Harry muttered quietly, reaching out to feel the broom beneath his fingertips. "But who could've sent it?" Harry murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

"No one knows," Ron chuckled with a grin, his voice laced with the thrill of mystery.

You watched as Hermione tilted the feather, the soft gray catching the light. "This came with it," she commented, holding it up for Harry to see. His eyes flickered over the feather for a second before he glanced back at the fire bolt, unable to contain his excitement.

A moment later, the rowdy group darted out of the Great Hall, chattering excitedly as they hurried toward the nearby courtyard to watch Harry test out his new fire bolt. With Hermione and Harry gone, you let out a small sigh of relief, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders.

Wandering into the Transfigurations classroom was nerve-wracking, especially when the boy you were desperately trying to avoid was in the same class.

With your head hung low, you avoided eye contact with Harry and Hermione as you passed their table, an expression of confusion passing over Ron's face when he noticed his friends looking intently at you walk by.

"Hey, (Y/n)," Harry unusually greeted, trying his best to seem casual. Simply glancing over in his direction, you flashed him a strained and short smile before speed-walking toward your seat beside Lavender.

Sliding into the seat beside Lavender, you exhaled quietly, hoping the distance would shield you from Harry's curious gaze. But Lavender, always quick to pick up on tension, nudged you with a knowing grin.

"Bit of a chilly reception there, huh?" She teased lightly, her eyes darting back to where Harry was sitting with his friends. "What's going on with you and Harry?"

You shook your head, brushing off her question with a forced smile. "Nothing. Just... a bit awkward, I guess."

Lavender raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Well, you looked like you'd seen a ghost walking by him. Did something happen?"

Hesitant, you were unsure about how to explain it to her. The memory of last night was still fresh in your mind — seeing Sirius Black in the courtyard with Harry and Hermione. You knew it was a secret too heavy to share, yet it felt almost unbearable to carry alone.

"No, nothing happened," you told her, a little too quickly.

Lavender studied you for a moment, then shrugged, deciding to drop the subject. Instead, she leaned in, her tone shifting to something more conspiratorial. "Well, if you're avoiding Harry, maybe you should keep an eye on Hermione. She's been asking about you lately."

You blinked, surprised. "Hermione? Why?"

Shrugging again, Lavender gave you a sidelong glance. "Not sure. She seems curious, that's all."

Your thoughts drifted back to Harry and Hermione's puzzled looks as you walked past them. Clearly, last night's events had left them just as on edge as you were, and it seemed they'd started noticing your discomfort too.

Once class had ended, you quickly packed your things wanting to rush out of the classroom as soon as possible without encountering either Harry or Hermione. Just as you slung your bag over your shoulder and made for the door, a voice called out.

"(Y/n), wait up!"

You didn't need to look to recognize Harry's voice.

With tension rising throughout your body, your instincts yelled at you to push forward and keep walking.

"Hey, (Y/n), you said you'd help me with homework, right?" Lavender questioned as she began to walk alongside you, her voice raised quite a bit. You glanced over at her, your eyes swirling with hints of confusion, but she simply smiled and gave you a knowing nod.

"Oh, right," you agreed, noticing Harry falter from the corner of your eye. "To the library then?"

Harry slowed his approach, his brows furrowing slightly as he watched you and Lavender disappear around the corner of the Transfiguration doorway. He looked as if he was about to say something else but held back, seeming a little hesitant with the sudden turn of events.

As you walked beside Lavender, you shot her a grateful smile. "Thanks for that," you murmured, relieved by the perfectly-timed intervention.

Lavender shrugged, giving you a mischievous grin. "What are friends for, right?" She replied, linking her arm with yours. "Besides, I could tell you didn't really want to talk to him."

You nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders as the two of you headed toward the library. Once you reached the quiet, dimly lit room, Lavender dropped her voice to a whisper. "So, what's going on? Harry's not usually the one to go seeking someone out, especially if it's someone from another house."

You bit your lip, glancing around the empty aisles. "It's... complicated," you finally replied, hoping it was enough to satisfy her curiosity without diving into the details.

Lavender nodded thoughtfully, clearly sensing the gravity of whatever was weighing on you. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here. And I promise not to go blabbing about it to anyone."

You offered her a small, appreciative smile. It was a relief, at least, to have a friend like Lavender at that moment.

It was odd not having Professor Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor anymore, but it wasn't exactly new to have Professor Snape substituting. It wasn't like he did much today anyway, since everyone was still working on their projects.

"This is coming together quite nicely," Ron commented, gazing in awe at the masterpiece that was your team's poster about boggarts. "We'll get top marks for sure."

"Depends on who's grading it this time," you sighed, your eyes drifting over to Snape as he watched over the students. "Wit Professor Lupin, we would've gotten an 'O', but if it's Snape grading, I'm not too sure."

"Even Snape can't deny how great it looks," a voice piped up, and you were quick to recognize that it was Harry. Glancing up from the poster, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a tight-lipped smile. "(Y/n)."

Returning the strained smile, your eyes returned to your poster and Ron shifted slightly at the tension brewing, though he had no idea what was happening or why.

"(Y/n), I've got something to tell you," Harry muttered lowly, words that only you could hear. You gazed up at him, your brows raising in confusion, but your eyes gave away that you weren't interested in anything he had to say — especially if he were associated with a muggle murderer.

Before Harry could elaborate on anything, a strict voice boomed. "Potter, I suggest focusing on your own project if you want to pass this class," Snape droned on, and you couldn't have been more grateful to have Snape intervene.

With a heavy sigh, Harry glanced between you and Snape before ultimately walking away.

"Huh, that went well," Ron chuckled nervously, successfully causing a small smile to spread across your lips and cutting the tension.

In the Clocktower Courtyard, you sat on the bench beside the edge of the well where a stone eagle sat posted in every corner of the water. With your bag resting on the ground, you had your essay spread out in front of you on the bench with your inkwell on the corner of the paper.

The courtyard was surprisingly empty and quiet, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional distant chatter of students passing through the corridors. Over the silence, you had your headphones covering your ears as you played "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley. You took a deep breath, savoring the crisp air, the warmth of the sun filtering through the clouds making it a perfect day for studying outside.

Dipping your quill into the inkwell, you continued writing your essay, pausing now and then to gather your thoughts. A light breeze fluttered the edges of your parchment, and you quickly placed a hand on it to keep it from flying away.

Just as you were getting back into your writing, a shadow fell across your paper. You looked up, squinting slightly against the sunlight, to find Harry Potter standing there, his hands awkwardly folded behind him.

Before you could somehow pack all your things and flee, Harry revealed the book that he'd been hiding behind him — 'Far from the Madding Crowd'. You moved your headphones down to your neck, letting the surrounding silence fill your mind.

"I, uhm, this is yours," he mentioned, hesitantly offering it out to you as he avoided your scrutinizing gaze.

You hesitated for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it. "Uh, thanks..." Holding it to your chest defensively, it was as if you were using your book as a shield. The space between you both filled with the kind of tension that only came from secrets — and the knowledge of them.

Harry shuffled his feet, glancing around at the surroundings. Noticing that you two were alone in the courtyard, he began, his tone pleading but sincere, "About what you saw..."

You cut him off quickly, shaking your head, refusing to acknowledge what you had witnessed in the dead of night. "See what? I didn't see anything." 

The air between you and Harry seemed to thicken, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you both. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his eyes flickering between your face and the ground. "He's innocent, you know."

You didn't meet his gaze, focusing instead on the distant horizon, but you gave a small, reluctant nod in acknowledgment. Despite this, it was clear that you didn't know whether to believe him. Harry sighed and sat across from you, his tone growing serious. "He didn't murder those people. He was framed."

Hesitation was evident, your fingers gripping the spine of your book tightly as you tried to make sense of the gravity of what he was telling you. Finally, you lifted your gaze, meeting his with a challenging stare. "And how would you know that?" You asked, a bit sharper than you intended, but curiosity nudging you to press for more.

"Because he's my godfather," Harry told you, his voice low but resolute.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, you noted, "Well, godfathers can still be murderers, so that's not really a valid explanation, "you shot back, your voice laced with dry humor. "It's like saying boyfriends can't be stalkers, or friends can't be thieves, or professors can't be werewolves—"

Harry froze at the mention of Lupin, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and something similar to shock. "You knew about Professor Lupin?"

You shrugged casually. "It was sort of obvious after a while. Especially when Snape taught us about werewolves, and Lupin had that odd fear of the moon."

He chuckled softly. "Alright, I see your point, but I'm telling you the truth about..." Harry's eyes flickered around your surroundings once more before coughing out, "My godfather. He was framed... by a man named Peter Pettigrew."

Just then, as if opening Pandora's Box, Harry began to explain everything in a quiet, determined voice. As he recounted the story, you listened intently, absorbing every word. His sincerity was unmistakable, and finally, you nodded thoughtfully.

The tension in the air hung between you and Harry, quiet and palpable, as the truth settled between you two. You couldn't quite believe it, but something about the way Harry spoke, so serious yet so earnest, made you pause. You squinted at him, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in your gaze.

"You're not lying," you said softly, almost to yourself, letting the words drift out before you fully thought them through. "Are you?"

Harry offered a half-smile, as if the question amused him in