Because Apparition wasn’t possible within Hogwarts, Sirius, Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and the others had no choice but to go to Hogsmeade first before making their way to the castle.
To avoid being ambushed by Death Eaters who might have been lying in wait, they deliberately chose a more secluded spot... a sunken hollow beside the left side of the Screaming Ice Cream Shop.
This place used to be the Shrieking Shack, but after Sirius took it over a year ago, he changed the name. Though the name sounded a bit odd, after hearing it enough times, it sort of rolled off the tongue.
After all, you can’t really expect someone who lost 8,000 Galleons in a single year to come up with a great shop name.
The group concealed themselves and moved quickly toward Hogwarts.
Along the way, Sirius took the opportunity to tell Harry and Lupin about how Regulus had swapped out the Slytherin locket and fooled Voldemort. He looked quite proud as he spoke.
Proud that such a brave and fearless young wizard had come from the decaying Black family.
"That's incredible," Harry whispered. "I can hardly believe a Death Eater would betray Voldemort because of a House-elf. He must have been fully prepared to die when he drank that potion."
"Kreacher was only part of the reason," said Sirius. "Regulus fundamentally disagreed with the Dark Lord’s methods. In his heart, that wasn’t how a pure-blood wizard should act."
"He was a true Slytherin," Harry said sincerely. "So the thing in the cave—was it a Horcrux? And you took it?"
"Exactly," Sirius nodded. "That was a few years ago. When we were cleaning out 12 Grimmauld Place, Kyle found Slytherin’s locket in the display case in the entrance hall.”
“That one was the real Horcrux. The one in the cave was a fake Regulus had swapped in.”
“No wonder Voldemort was so furious.” Harry recalled the grotesquely twisted face from his memory and suddenly felt the urge to laugh.
It was probably the first time Voldemort had ever been played like that. Not only had Regulus deceived him for over a decade, it seemed he’d even mocked him.
More importantly, Regulus had sacrificed himself, and Voldemort hadn’t even had the chance to get revenge—he could only endure it.
The group chatted as they walked and soon entered the outskirts of Hogsmeade Village.
Unlike the bustling scene Harry remembered, the village was completely deserted. Even the shops had closed early.
Except for one place.
The Hog’s Head—this shady haunt where all kinds of people gathered—still glowed faintly with light.
Harry glanced that way instinctively, then suddenly froze and rubbed his eyes hard.
“What is it?” Sirius asked.
“No... nothing,” Harry replied.
He must not have slept well after a nightmare. Just now, he thought he’d seen Dumbledore’s silhouette in the window.
But that was impossible. He had personally attended Dumbledore’s funeral not long ago... Dumbledore was gone. No matter how much he didn’t want to believe it, it was still the truth.
Maybe it was just the pub’s owner. He did look a lot like Dumbledore.
Harry recalled seeing the owner last time he’d visited the Hog’s Head.
Silver hair, a long, naturally drooping beard, and those unmistakable blue eyes. If it weren’t for the slight differences in facial features, he could’ve passed for Dumbledore’s double.
Could they be related...? Harry couldn’t help wondering as he looked away.
The three of them continued forward and soon disappeared at the end of the lane.
Just then, the door of the Hog’s Head swung open—but no one entered or exited. It was as if the wind had blown it ajar.
If Harry had still been there, he would’ve seen—through the narrow gap in the doorway—that the Dumbledore look-alike was standing at the center of the bar.
Before him, three people lay motionless across a table, as if fast asleep.
“Bloody Dumbledore,” Aberforth muttered, waving his wand with distaste. “Why am I the one stuck cleaning up this mess?”
With a flick, the three unconscious bodies vanished.
But by then, Harry had already entered Hogwarts and saw none of this.
At that moment, Hogwarts itself had completely changed—transformed into something like a vast greenhouse.
Harry didn’t know how to describe the dazzling light barrier above the castle. The first thing that came to mind was the windscreen that covered the greenhouse roof.
Some magical plants couldn’t be exposed to wind. For example, umbrella-shaped Leaping Toadstools—just the slightest breeze, even a sharp exhale, could blow them away.
That was why Professor Sprout not only required students to wear full protective gear in class, but also cast a wind-blocking charm over the roof of Greenhouse Five.
It looked exactly like what they were seeing now—Hogwarts covered as if by a giant greenhouse dome.
Several professors stood on the field, raising their wands high and chanting:
“Protego Horribilis... Fianto Duri...”
“Protego Horribilis... Fianto Duri...”
...
As they spoke, beams of light shot from the tips of their wands, merging into the uppermost layer of the glowing barrier.
“It’s a massive protective spell…” Sirius muttered beside him. “It’s the first time I’ve seen a Fianto Duri of this scale. Looks like the professors are ready to go all in.”
“Filius, old friend, I’m here to help!” he called out, striding over.
As a former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, calling Professor Flitwick “old friend” seemed perfectly natural.
Sirius quickly found his place and joined the group casting the protective enchantments.
Lupin did the same. As a werewolf, he possessed a sense of smell far superior to that of ordinary wizards, as well as the ability to navigate darkness with ease—making him ideal for scouting the area.
There was just one problem.
Lupin glanced up at the glaringly bright moon overhead... It was a full moon tonight, never a good sign for a werewolf.
His legs began to stretch uncontrollably, and coarse, black-brown fur sprouted across his body.
But Lupin had clearly come prepared. The moment the transformation began, he pulled out a bottle of potion and quickly downed it.
In the moonlight, the orange gleam in the werewolf’s eyes seemed to dull slightly.
“Remus—oh, heavens! Are you alright?” Mrs. Weasley came rushing over. The transformation had happened so suddenly, she hadn't even had time to react.
Harry followed close behind, but she immediately stepped in front of him to shield him.
The werewolf didn’t respond. By now, he had lost the ability to speak, but thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion, he still retained a shred of reason.
To avoid accidentally hurting anyone, Lupin instinctively backed away a few steps, his long wolf snout twitching.
His sense of smell, now even more acute, picked up the stench of cheap alcohol wafting from the Hog’s Head.
Disgusting. That stuff must be dirt cheap.
The werewolf Lupin quickly redirected his attention to a scent he didn’t recognize—an unfamiliar wizard.
“Professor Lupin, are you alright?” Harry stepped forward cautiously and repeated his question, while Mrs. Weasley continued to shield him with her arm.
To put them at ease, Lupin took two more steps back and gave a slight shake of his ferocious, wolfish head—his way of answering.
Perhaps tonight, the full moon wasn’t such a curse after all.
Without lingering at the school, Lupin in his werewolf form turned swiftly and vanished into the night with a few bounding leaps.
Harry continued toward the castle with Mrs. Weasley. They had the same goal.
Ron.
When they'd arrived, Sirius had told him the students had all been evacuated elsewhere—but he’d also mentioned that adult wizards were exempt.
Harry was certain Hermione and Ron would have stayed. Just as he would have, if given the choice.
“Horace, you’d better remind the Slytherins who stayed behind...”
Inside the castle, Professor McGonagall was speaking gravely to Slughorn. “If any of them take up arms against us from within the castle, I’m sorry—but we will fight to the end.”
“Minerva, you...” Slughorn’s body trembled slightly.
“Slytherin must choose a side,” McGonagall interrupted him. “Once that choice is made, I will no longer treat them as students.”
Slughorn let out a weary sigh.
Harry was puzzled. Why was Professor McGonagall saying this to Slughorn? Wasn’t Snape the Head of Slytherin?
Speaking of which—where was he?
Something this big was happening at Hogwarts, and yet the Headmaster hadn’t shown up.
Harry looked around and noticed clear signs of a struggle. A massive floor-to-ceiling window had been shattered, leaving a jagged, vaguely human-shaped gap.
“Molly, I’m so glad to see you—oh, Potter! What are you doing here?”
Just then, Professor McGonagall spotted him and strode over quickly. “Do you have any idea how hard they’ve been looking for you? This is sheer foolishness.”
“I know. But I had to come,” Harry said. “I’m part of Hogwarts, Professor. And I’m of age now. You have no reason to send me away.”
McGonagall opened her mouth, hesitating. There was frustration in her expression, but also a trace of pride... In the end, she silently accepted Harry’s decision.
Just as she’d failed to convince Kyle to leave earlier.
Even during the evacuation, some of the younger students had tried all sorts of ways to stay behind… Every one of them had their reasons.
Harry went off to look for Hermione and Ron.
McGonagall stepped forward into the center of the corridor, raised her wand, and shouted with a slightly trembling voice:
“Piertotum Locomotor!”
All across the corridor—along with the statues and suits of armor from the upper floors—figures leapt down from their pedestals. Loud thuds echoed up and down the castle.
“Hogwarts is under attack,” McGonagall declared. “Hold the line, protect the students and staff, and do your duty to the school!”
Countless stone statues and armored figures marched out of the castle with steady, unified steps.
Feeling the ground quake on either side, McGonagall rubbed her hands together in excitement and whispered to Mrs. Weasley beside her,
“I’ve wanted to use that spell for a long time.”
Mrs. Weasley stared in stunned silence at the towering stone figures wielding massive axes and chained spiked maces. By Merlin’s beard—she’d always thought they were just decorations when she was at school. She never imagined they could actually move!
“Wait—Professor!”
Just then, Kyle came running down from upstairs. “Professor McGonagall, can you stop the statues for a second?”
He’d rushed down the moment he heard the noise, but still missed the most exciting part—though he’d made it in time for the rest.
“Stop them?” McGonagall looked at him, puzzled. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she still waved her wand.
The stone statues and suits of armor came to a simultaneous halt, lining up neatly on both sides like soldiers awaiting inspection.
“Can I try it?” Kyle asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together.
“The statue spell?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
“Mm-hmm.”
“No.” McGonagall didn’t seem as tense now, and even found the humor to tease him. “That spell only works for the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress. Even if a professor knows the incantation, it won’t do anything.”
Kyle immediately looked crestfallen.
What a useless spell.
McGonagall chuckled, raised her wand again, and prepared to set them back in motion.
"Wait a moment," Kyle quickly stopped her.
"If not, then forget it. I’ll just give them a little extra firepower—at least that way, I’ll feel like I contributed."
With a wave of his wand, over a dozen glass bottles, each the size of a wine bottle, floated out from his Mokeskin pouch.
Each bottle contained a shimmering blue liquid. Under Kyle’s control, the liquid separated into numerous glowing blue spheres, which then coated the blades of axes, greatswords, and spiked maces.
Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched sharply. Her voice came out dry.
"What is that?"
"Oh, Acromantula venom," Kyle replied. "Good stuff. Should at least double the lethality of those weapons."
Clink!
As luck would have it, Slughorn, who had just hurried back, happened to overhear Kyle’s words. He froze on the spot, and his wand slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
What the bloody hell did I just hear?
That much liquid—enough to fill at least twenty cauldrons—was Acromantula venom?
Venom that costs a hundred Galleons a pint?
What a waste! What a total waste!
Slughorn's face contorted in disbelief. He’d worked tirelessly to collect even a small vial—and Kyle was splashing it around like water.
Using it just to boost the power of those stone statues… Are they even worthy of it?
Wasteful beyond belief!
Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples, equally distressed. She could completely sympathize with Slughorn. There had to be nearly thirty pints of venom in total... That was three thousand Galleons—just to make the statues’ weapons a bit more lethal?
To be fair, Kyle was being rather extravagant.
But still...
"Where on earth did you get that much Acromantula venom?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Some well-meaning neighbors in the Forbidden Forest donated it," Kyle said casually. "They insisted on doing their part to help protect Hogwarts—even said they'd drain themselves dry, and their mates too, if that’s what it took. I really couldn't turn them down."
"Is that so?" Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. Since when did the Forbidden Forest have such friendly neighbors? And they were Acromantulas, no less—infamous for being vicious and cold-blooded among all magical creatures.
Friendly? Really?
"Just go with it," Kyle said with a dismissive wave. "It’s not like they’ll come out here to file a complaint. And after living in the forest for so long, isn't it only fair they pay a bit of rent?"
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and said no more.
But she had to admit—Kyle might actually have a point.
The stone statues and suits of armor were already highly resistant to magic. Now, soaked in Acromantula venom, it was like arming them with weapons laced with a Killing Curse—just a scrape would be fatal.
The only downside was their sluggish movement.
But in a large-scale battle, that barely mattered at all.
Professor McGonagall gave her wand a wave, and the statues resumed marching toward the edges of the castle. Their weapons glinted with a ghostly blue light in the moonlight... not just from the venom, but also from the lingering aura of Slughorn’s heartbreak.
Even now, he couldn’t accept Kyle’s reckless extravagance. He sat crouched on the ground, pounding his chest in despair.
...
Elsewhere, Harry had found Ron and Hermione.
As expected, they hadn’t left the school and were now working with a larger group of students, clearly planning something.
Kyle spotted several familiar faces... Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Cho Chang, Cedric.
It wasn’t just the older students who had stayed behind—many graduates had returned as well.
"Oh, Harry!" Ginny ran over and hugged him. The gesture earned a unified frown from the gathered Weasleys.
But that was the extent of their reaction.
Hermione came over as well.
“I was actually going to tell you that you shouldn’t have come back—but you wouldn’t have listened anyway, would you?”
“Of course not,” Harry said with a smile. “But how did you all find out about this?”
“Cedric,” Fred stepped forward. “He told us, and we passed it on to the others. No one wanted to miss out on the fun, so here we are.”
“Still,” George muttered, “do you really think he’ll come to Hogwarts?”
He was worried this might all be a false alarm. And if that were the case, then the next time Voldemort truly attacked, they might not be able to rally such a large group again.
Harry understood what he was thinking—and couldn’t help wanting to check on Voldemort himself.
Almost as if in response, the scar on his forehead erupted in pain.
He clutched his head and grabbed onto Ginny’s arm to steady himself.
“Oh, Harry, are you alright?” a worried voice asked beside him.
“I’m fine.” Harry shook his head, then looked at George with a faint smile.
“Don’t worry. He’ll come. Definitely.”
Just now, he had seen it—Voldemort, blazing with fury, was heading straight for Hogwarts at full speed.
“Oh, that’s a neat trick,” Fred said, glancing at the scar on Harry’s forehead with a hint of envy. Then he quickly added, “Sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Fred chuckled. “By the way, have you seen Kyle? I caught sight of him sneaking out of the Forbidden Forest earlier, but when I turned around, he was gone. I’ve been looking for him.”
“I saw him on the third floor,” Harry replied after thinking for a moment. “By now, he should be down in the Entrance Hall.”
“Thanks.”
Fred and George exchanged a glance, then hurried toward the door.
They both agreed—at a time like this, sticking with Kyle was bound to be more exciting.