https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-512-Operation-2-with-Sirius-Black/13685623/
Chapter 513: Operation 3 with Sirius Black
"Dark Mark... it's becoming increasingly conspicuous... Lucius Malfoy must be the one who's coming back..."
"They said, once the match ends, they'll have some fun with the Muggles near the campsite... also... to send a signal... if he's truly still alive..."
"I don't want... I don't want him to return. When the Master was still alive, he grew more and more brutal. If he comes back, he'll punish us... we're all traitors..."
Grove Crabbe offered no resistance at all to Veritaserum. His voice trembled as he spilled the truth, and Sirius Black’s expression grew darker with every word.
He stepped forward, yanked up the left sleeve of Crabbe’s robe, and stared intently at the mark branded on his forearm.
It was a pale red tattoo—a skull adorned with serpent-like patterns, its mouth open wide as if spitting a serpent. The image was terrifying, yet somehow possessed a strange, eerie beauty.
After a long silence, Sirius Black finally spoke, his voice cold: "Who else was involved in the preparation with you?"
Two seconds passed. Then Crabbe mumbled a list of names: "Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe, Theo Nott, McNeil..."
...
Half an hour later, Grove Crabbe slipped back into unconsciousness. For extra precaution, Sirius Black cast a Forgetting Charm, ensuring that when he woke, he wouldn’t remember a single word.
The two men reapplied their Disguise Charms and descended the stairs again. At the entrance, Wade noticed his classmate Crabbe apparently setting his robe on fire—screaming, flailing his arms, wildly slapping at the flames. His mother burst from their tent, tearing the robe off with a sharp rip, then tossing it aside.
In the chaos, Wade and Sirius Black slipped away silently.
"Good thing you kept a sharp eye, Wade," Sirius Black murmured, glancing down. "Otherwise, by the time we saw the Dark Mark hovering over the bodies, it’d already be too late to catch them."
Wade knew he wouldn’t be involved in the next phase. He asked, "How do you plan to handle this?"
"It’s a golden opportunity," Sirius Black replied, a dangerous smile curling his lips. "Thirteen years ago, they claimed they were under the Imperius Curse—now, if we catch them red-handed, that excuse won’t hold anymore."
He handed the wand back to Wade. "Go back to your tent. I’ll be gone." Then, without another word, he Disapparated.
Wade suppressed the urge to keep the wand, leaving behind the one he hadn’t used much. He sat down, sipped his tea, and replayed the events of the original story in his mind as he returned to his tent.
Harry and Remus Lupin were still with the Weasley family—none had come back yet. Only Kreacher was bustling around the kitchen, preparing lunch. The scent of pan-fried steak drifted through the air.
Wade sat down, poured himself another cup of hot tea, and drank it in one long swallow.
The Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to cause trouble in the camp anymore. If lucky, they’d all be captured by the Ministry of Magic.
But Wade had little faith in the Aurors’ ability to act swiftly. Even Phoenix Society members might not arrive in time to stop the Death Eaters from escaping—unless Dumbledore himself intervened.
He remembered: Lucius Malfoy and his allies had once been imprisoned—after attacking the Ministry. And when Dumbledore stepped in, he’d trapped nearly all of them, leaving them powerless to resist or flee.
Though he hadn’t seen the Headmaster in the camp, the fact that Sirius Black had contacted him meant he would intervene, wouldn’t he?
The incident was over. Wade should have relaxed. But a deep, unsettling unease lingered in his chest.
He idly traced the rim of his teacup, thinking: What does this have to do with the dream I had?
In the original story, no one died that night. In fact, Malfoy and his gang were now hiding, barely daring to show their faces. Even if they masked their appearances, they lacked the courage to kill. They only wanted to stir up minor chaos.
To a Muggle Administrator, the scene might have been terrifying. But to most wizards, it was just a scare—no real danger. For someone like Harry and his friends, it was like standing on the edge of a storm, catching only a few drops of rain.
The worst outcome? Little Barty Crouch escaping.
Wade froze.
That’s right. In the original timeline, Little Barty escaped during the chaos.
But now, he’d already escaped. He was back with Voldemort. Even Garr Troke and Lockhart had fallen into their hands.
Harry had come to the camp for the Quidditch World Cup. Everywhere he looked, wizards were using magic—Apparating in and out at random, making the Ministry of Magic too overwhelmed to keep track.
Compared to breaking into the heavily guarded Hogwarts, this was the perfect place to make a move.
Wade stared into his teacup. After a moment, he poured himself another cup of hot tea, sipped slowly, then turned the cup upside down.
As the last drops of water drained out, the tea leaves at the bottom formed a chaotic swirl. Wade gently rotated the saucer.
Skull. Skull. Skull. Skull.
No matter how he turned it, the remnants of tea leaves formed the unmistakable shape of a skull.
【Death. Danger… a latent, deadly threat…】
Wade recalled the passage from his book. Then he looked at the scattered tea leaves surrounding the skull—almost forming a complete circle.
【Surrounded by shadow… danger is amplified. Extra caution required…】
"It’s an omen! A dire omen!" Wade remembered Professor Trelawney’s wide-eyed, breathless warning from class:
"If you ever see such a pattern, be careful! Be extremely careful! The one you love… it means Death is watching you. You must avoid every danger at all costs!"
"I’ve warned you all I can. But I hope—I pray—you’ll never have to face something so terrible. Merlin protect you… don’t go near the veil of Death!"
Trelawney ended her lesson in her usual cryptic, dramatic tone, then collapsed into her chair, muttering as if haunted by something unspeakable.
But Wade remembered: after that class, several Gryffindors had written in their Prophecy assignments about seeing skull shapes, crosses, and other ominous symbols—then spun elaborate, terrifying crises of their own.
Thinking of her wild-eyed expression, Wade couldn’t help but smile. But when he looked down at the skull-shaped tea leaves on the saucer, he sighed.
"So… what’s the point of Divination? It tells you danger is near, but never where. Staying here might be dangerous… but leaving might be where the real danger lies."
He muttered under his breath, then set the saucer down.
His eyes drifted to the bookshelf. And there, nestled between other volumes, was The History of the Quidditch World Cup.
A faint spark of thought flickered in his mind.
(End of Chapter)
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