https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-626-Harry-Potter-in-His-Teenage-Years/13685807/
Chapter 627: Black Dog on the Trail
"Focus on the motion of your wrist—imagine you're stroking the tentacles of a jellyfish… though I’d advise against actually doing it."
Beep—
The kitchen’s water kettle shrieked sharply. Sirius Black waved his wand, lifting it from the fireplace flame, then resumed teaching.
"Erecto Bulbus—when you say the spell, stretch the 'Erecto' slightly, and emphasize the final syllable. Most importantly, keep your breathing steady. Nervousness makes your bubbles as fragile as soap bubbles."
Sirius Black recited the incantation once. Instantly, a perfect spherical bubble formed above his head—his head suddenly looked several times larger.
Harry stifled a laugh and repeated, "Erecto Bulbus!"
A lopsided, translucent bubble popped into existence above his head. It lasted barely a second before bursting with a soft pop.
His spirits sank. But Sirius Black clapped his hands with delight. "Brilliant, Harry! I didn’t expect you to get it on the first try!"
Harry grinned. Then, with a proactive mindset, he added, "I think my gesture was off—too stiff, maybe."
They practiced for the better part of the morning until Harry’s bubble finally resembled a smooth glass orb. Sirius Black signaled him to stop.
"Relax, now. There’s still over a month until the Tournament. By then, you’ll have this spell mastered."
He patted Harry’s shoulder and grinned. "How about a break? Let’s go out for a drink?"
Harry couldn’t refuse.
"Moony," Sirius called toward the neighboring house as they stepped outside, "I’m taking Harry to the Three Broomsticks. You coming?"
A window above creaked open. Remus Lupin leaned out, waving. "Go ahead. I’ve still got some work to finish."
Crunching through the snowdrifts, Sirius Black grumbled to Harry:
"This homebody—doesn’t even know how to take a proper break at Christmas. Wade didn’t assign him overtime during holidays! He’s just piling up work for himself, stuck in that house with no peace, and hasn’t joined me for a drink in ages."
…
The wooden door of the Three Broomsticks swung open in the cold wind, letting in a flurry of swirling snowflakes.
Madam Rosmerta was adding fresh logs to the fireplace. She turned at the sound of footsteps.
Her eyes landed on Sirius Black. At first, she frowned—then, seeing only Harry beside him, her expression softened into a smile.
"Well, well… look who’s here. The famous Harry Potter—Hogwarts’ third Champion!"
Her gaze flicked over Harry, amused. "So? Didn’t Cedric Digory and Wade Gray escape the castle with you?"
Harry froze, glancing around nervously. Only two tipsy patrons sat at the far end, so he relaxed.
Sirius Black laughed, slinging an arm over Harry’s shoulder. "Leave him alone, Rosmerta! This kid’s earned a breath of fresh air!"
"What’ll it be?" she asked cheerfully.
"Two Butterbeers, with honey," Sirius Black said, pulling up a high stool and tossing a few silver Sickles onto the counter. "And bring me a Chocolate Cauldron Cake for the home Champion, too."
Moments later, Rosmerta returned with the drinks and cake—plus a small bowl of creamy ice cream beside Harry’s plate.
"Free of charge," she winked. "That move you made against the Durmstrang Champion? Pure magic. The whole pub was cheering for you!"
"Th-thank you," Harry stammered, blushing.
After Rosmerta left, Sirius Black sipped his drink and grinned. "Heard you skipped Michael’s wall horn and danced with Hogwarts’ most beautiful girl?"
Harry nearly choked on his Butterbeer. He stared at Sirius, panic flashing in his eyes. "What?"
"...Guess not," Sirius sighed, feigning disappointment. "Hermione, Padma—so many lovely girls, and you’ve managed to miss them all?"
As he spoke, a strange familiarity tugged at him.
Hmm… those old family portraits back at the Black Manor—they used to nag him the same way.
Now he finally understood what the elders had felt. But he had no intention of burying himself in marriage.
Harry flushed. "Padma and Michael broke up ages ago… and I’m just friends with them. She agreed to be my dance partner because she didn’t want to see me embarrassed. Let’s get back to the Bubble Head Charm, okay?"
Sirius burst into laughter.
Outside, the snow fell harder. Sirius Black ordered another Firewhiskey, while Harry still savored his cake.
Then the pub door creaked open again.
"I’ve already started selling off family heirlooms. Next week, I’ll repay another chunk. The remaining three parts… I might need two months to gather."
Ludo Bagman’s voice—warm and honeyed, like sunlight-warmed wine—carried clearly through the door.
Harry turned, startled. Through a gap between the Christmas tree and the wall, he saw Bagman and Old Barty Crouch enter together.
"One hot gin," Bagman called out. "With honey and lemon. Barty, what’ll you have?"
"Soda water," Old Barty replied flatly, sitting down. His face was rigid, every line carved in ice—clearly unwilling to speak, yet forced to sit beside Bagman.
"I owe you, old friends," Bagman said, undeterred by the cold reception. "I knew you’d still give me a chance!"
"I swear I’ll pay you back. I just need a little time."
Harry muttered under his breath. "That’s… strange."
"What’s wrong?" Sirius Black asked.
"Wade saw them arguing earlier," Harry whispered, casting a silent spell around them. Then he recounted what he’d heard from Wade: "Crouch just let him go? I thought he wasn’t the type to bend the rules."
Sirius snorted. "Crouch doesn’t have the power to send anyone to Azkaban anymore. And Fudge? To him, power and reputation matter more than justice."
He took a long sip, eyes narrowing at the two men. "Right now, the Ministry’s top priority is the Magic School League. If word got out that a referee was caught fixing bets, it’d be a scandal. No matter what Crouch wants, Fudge will bury it. He’s got too much to lose."
Harry set down his fork. A wave of nausea washed over him.
"But the victim wasn’t just Professor Trelawney, was it? Doesn’t the Ministry care?"
"Exactly," Sirius said with a bitter smirk. "Don’t expect too much from these people, Harry. You’ll only get hurt if you do."
He paused, then urged, "Come on—finish up and head back to school. If reporters catch you sneaking out, you’ll be in trouble."
In truth, Sirius knew there were no reporters in the village. But Harry didn’t. The memory of Rita Skeeter’s lies—those vicious, false articles—still haunted him. Even though they’d never appeared in the papers, the threat lingered like a sword hanging above his head.
He felt it in his bones.
After a hurried meal, Sirius Black escorted Harry all the way back to the castle, watching him vanish through the Vanishing Cabinet before turning around and returning to the Three Broomsticks area.
He slipped into an alley, concealed in shadow.
Moments later, Bagman and Old Barty stepped out, talking quietly as they walked, discussing the details of the next event.
Sirius Black narrowed his eyes. That familiar, focused intensity—sharp and unrelenting—returned to his gray gaze.
Then, a Black Dog emerged from the darkness, silent as smoke.
It followed them, massive yet perfectly hidden from view—slipping between lines of sight, moving like a shadow among shadows.
After a while, the two men split paths.
The dog paused. Then, instead of tailing the man Harry had labeled a criminal—Bagman—it turned and slipped silently behind the one Harry saw as upright and honorable: Old Barty Crouch.
(End of Chapter)
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