Chapter 238: Becoming a Black Dog Is Truly Great
“What? Of course not!” Remus Lupin blinked, then let out a soft, wry laugh.
“I just really admire the energy she carries—nothing to do with romance between men and women.”
In truth, Abigail’s presence always reminded him of James Potter and Sirius Black—specifically, the reckless, untamed version of them from their teenage years.
They had once dreamed of staying together after graduation, traveling the world, exploring remote, dangerous places, and leaving behind a legend in every Ministry of Magic they passed through.
But after school, they were thrown straight into war. James married Lily, and soon after, they had a child…
Life had accelerated like a rewound film. Before Remus could even catch up, the four of them were gone—now only he remained.
He looked back, and there was no one beside him. He looked ahead, but the path ahead was unknown.
The dreams of youth had vanished like mist, swept away by the violent wind of death and war.
Remus Lupin’s expression softened, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. Wade noticed, and said nothing further.
The two continued along the trail left by the carriage, and soon arrived at Hogsmeade.
From afar, Wade spotted a hag crouched atop a tall, spire-like roof—her wings, like those of a bird, folded tightly behind her. Her eyes, a pale gray-green, fixed on them for a moment, then turned away with a bored flick.
Hags were a type of Fantastic Beast. Like Centaurs, they lived near wizards, yet kept their distance.
Unlike the social Centaurs, however, hags were usually solitary—or lived in small groups of two or three.
Most concealed themselves among human towns and villages, but only in a pure wizarding settlement like Hogsmeade could they spread their wings freely, without pretending to be ordinary Muggles.
This one was a resident of Hogsmeade. Students from Hogwarts occasionally glimpsed her when they wandered out.
Remus and Wade paid her little mind, stepping around the base of her tower.
Hogsmeade had been decked out for the Resurrection Festival—colorful eggs and bunnies were everywhere, and the village was bustling with wizards arriving from distant places.
Remus’s home remained warm and welcoming. At the entrance, a few rabbits hopped about. One with red eyes sat by the door, wearing a little blue coat, curiously watching the two.
Wade crouched down and poked it gently.
“Sirius Black not here?”
“He went out to get supplies,” Remus said. “To ensure the safety of the Animagus transformation, we need to prepare properly.”
He picked a few vegetables from his garden—fresh greens and lettuce—and waved his wand. The vegetables leapt into a basin of water, washed themselves, then floated onto the cutting board. The knife sprang up on its own, chopping with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud.
Wade glanced at the bookshelf and noticed several new additions:
Cooking Magic, Delicious Things Need the Right Magic, Complete Guide to Household Magic.
Though these magics were practical, they weren’t part of Hogwarts’ official curriculum. Wizards who wanted to learn them had to study on their own.
Wade took his luggage upstairs, changed into casual clothes, and came back down—just as he heard the deep growl of an engine from next door.
The scent of food drifted from the kitchen, and Remus emerged from within.
They stepped into the adjacent room, and there stood Sirius Black—back from his errand, looking more stylish than ever.
Black leather jacket and boots, dark sunglasses, his hair whipping wildly in the wind. He rode a massive red motorcycle, its surface painted with golden lion motifs. He’d clearly modified it beyond recognition—Wade couldn’t even guess the brand.
Wade squinted.
If he wasn’t mistaken… Sirius had just landed from the sky.
“Sirius Black,” Remus said, exasperated. “You know the Ministry of Magic regulations prohibit the reckless use of Muggle items.”
Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “No one can see us. We’re both invisible. Hey, Wade, I bet you’ve already prepared?”
“Of course,” Wade grinned.
“Didn’t miss a single spell, did I?” Sirius said seriously. “Don’t lie—this matters. Your life depends on it.”
“Never skipped a day,” Wade replied. “Twice every day—sunrise and sunset. No exceptions.”
“Good lad!” Sirius ruffled his hair roughly. “Come on, let’s go see what we’ve set up for you.”
They walked through the forest for about ten minutes, until they reached a valley nearby.
There stood a small, crooked hut—built temporarily, propped up only by magic, refusing to collapse.
Vines twisted around it like a web, leaving only a narrow path. Branches and leaves stretched far, interweaving and entangling overhead, forming a vast, leafy canopy. Sunlight streamed through tiny gaps in the foliage, like a curtain of rain.
In the clearing, a hole had been dug and filled with clear water.
A young deer was drinking from the edge when their footsteps startled it. It leapt away in a flash, paused at the forest’s edge, glanced back once—then vanished into the trees.
“Who let this place open?” Sirius muttered, walking over and pointing his wand at the deer’s path. The bushes instantly stretched, sealing the gap shut.
“What’s all this for?” Wade asked, curious.
“You said you once dreamed of flying,” Remus said. “During Animagus practice, dreams can carry a hint of precognition. Your animal form might very well be a bird.”
“I dreamed of running on four legs, spinning around, searching for my tail,” Sirius added, scowling. “I thought I’d end up as a leopard or something… but no. Now I’m stuck with a dog.”
He paused, then continued: “Animagus transformation must happen in open wilderness. But if you turn into a bird and fly off—your animal instincts take over, and you forget to come back. Where would we find you?”
This was the greatest danger of Animagus training: the wizard might truly become a beast, losing their mind, their self, their humanity.
“So we’ve enclosed the entire area,” Remus explained. “And if you turn into a fish, there’s plenty of water here—no risk of drowning.”
The first Animagus transformation must occur in an open space—otherwise, if the transformed form is too large, it could be crushed to death in a narrow place. Nor can it happen in a complex environment, where a tiny transformed form might get lost or mistaken for prey.
There must be no other creatures nearby—lest the wizard blend in, scatter away, or be eaten.
Some creatures require very specific living conditions, demanding special arrangements.
Sirius had cleared the area thoroughly, removing every possible hazard.
Then, suddenly, he paused, voice low and reflective:
“Remus… why were we so reckless back then? Why did we just dive in without thinking?”
He turned to Wade, a faint tremble in his voice.
“Surviving was hard enough… but becoming a black dog? That’s truly great…”
Before Remus could reply, Sirius pulled out two packets of sea salt and dumped them into the pond.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
