Harry Potter: MageX

Chapter 11: Chapter 10



Unraveling the Mystery: Sirius Black Case Reexamined

By Barnabas Cuffe

Oh, wow. Something's afoot, folks. And not just any run-of-the-mill "someone forgot to lock the back door" kind of thing, but a big one. A huge one. A mystery that's been bubbling under the surface for years, like a cauldron of truth about to boil over. Yeah, I'm talking about the Sirius Black case. You know, the one where the poor guy's been branded a villain for, well, almost forever. No trial. No nothing. Just boom, off to Azkaban. Doesn't that strike you as odd?

For those of you who've been living under a rock (no judgment—some of us need a little peace), Sirius Black was once considered one of the most dangerous criminals the wizarding world had ever seen. Allegedly. That's the thing though. Allegedly. But, hang on! It's been years, decades even, since this whole circus started. And now, with new information coming to light—poof! Everything's up in the air again. And why? That's the question, my friends.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Cuffe, what's the big deal? He was a mass murderer, right? He deserved it!" Hold on a second! Take a breath, would ya? Before you go throwing around your wands, let's dive into the whole thing. You see, there's this pesky little detail that's been gnawing at me—no trial. Yeah, none. Zip. Zero. No courtroom drama. No shouting "Objection!" in the middle of a highly dramatic scene. Nothing. Just straight to Azkaban. Like a bad dinner reservation.

So, what happened here? What's the deal with this whole mess? And here's where things start to get, well, a little spicy. You've probably heard of Barty Crouch Sr., yeah? Former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Real tough guy. Runs a tight ship. So, why in Merlin's name did this "tight ship" get lost at sea when it came to Sirius Black? I mean, think about it. Crouch had access to all the resources. He knew the system inside and out. But instead of a trial, there was—nothing. Just a statement of guilt. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and off to the towers of despair he goes. But, folks, why?

There are whispers, folks. Whispers that Crouch might have had some other motives. Maybe he had an agenda. Or maybe, just maybe, there were forces at play that we don't fully understand. Call it a political move, a scapegoat, or a twisted game of chess, but something smells fishy. I mean, come on—no one could be that dumb, could they? In a world so obsessed with justice, with rules and laws, how could this just slide by?

I've been digging. Oh yeah. Into the archives, the eyewitness accounts, the dusty scrolls that haven't seen the light of day in decades. And let me tell you: the more I look, the more the whole thing starts to unravel like a badly tied knot. There's conflicting evidence—testimonies that don't line up. People who said one thing and later swore they were misquoted. And don't get me started on the "official records"—they're practically empty. So, what was really going on back then?

Now, I'm not saying Sirius Black was a saint—don't get me wrong. But what if he wasn't the monster everyone thought he was? What if, just maybe, he was the fall guy? A poor soul caught up in a storm of politics, betrayal, and sheer incompetence? What if this whole thing's been a big ol' mistake?

I know, I know. You're probably sitting there, scratching your head, thinking, "What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Well, folks, that's the million-galleon question, isn't it? Because here's the deal: the more I look, the more I'm convinced that something went really wrong in that whole mess. And guess what? The truth is still out there. And it's calling, from the depths of Azkaban, from the pages of forgotten records, from the dusty corners of the Ministry. And it's only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down.

So, what does this mean for the wizarding world? What does this mean for Sirius Black? Well, the time for hand-wringing is over. The time for accountability is now. There's a storm brewing, and it's coming right for us. But here's the thing—until we confront this ugly chapter of our history, we'll never know the truth. We'll just keep believing the lie, forever trapped in the shadows of the past.

The wizarding world has a lot to answer for. And maybe—just maybe—it's time we finally get the truth we've all been waiting for.

So stay tuned. I've got more digging to do. And trust me, I'll find out what happened. Because once you open this particular can of worms, there's no going back. And oh, you're going to want to know what comes next.

---

As Harry sat in the plush, slightly-too-comfortable seat aboard the X-jet, trying to ignore the low hum of the engines (which was basically a lullaby for planes, but one that wasn't exactly doing him any favors in the "staying awake" department), he found himself reading Barnabas Cuffe's article on Sirius Black. The Daily Prophet was awkwardly folded in his lap, and every time he turned a page, the noise it made could've been mistaken for a chip bag being crumpled—if chips were made out of enchanted parchment. Super subtle. Not the ideal situation when you're trying to stay low-key and not look like the world's most nervous wizard.

But, wow. The article was something else. If by "something else," you mean it was like trying to solve a riddle where the answer was "it's a conspiracy" written in twelve different languages, all of which made no sense. Harry's godfather's entire situation was a mess—a glorious, all-consuming train wreck where every car had fireworks and loose chickens running around. No matter how many times he read it, he couldn't wrap his head around it. How did someone as cool as Sirius end up being the poster child for magical injustice? It didn't seem right. It didn't seem possible. It was like finding out your favorite ice cream shop sold spoiled milk.

Beside him, Professor Xavier was as chill as always. He wasn't exactly meditating, but it sure looked like he was. His usual serene expression was plastered on his face as he sat perfectly still, his hands folded in his lap like he was waiting for a really important meeting. Ororo, on the other hand, looked like she was about five seconds away from sending a thunderbolt through the cabin. Normally, she was as calm as a breeze during a picnic, but right now, she had the air of someone who'd been stuck in traffic for far too long—and not the regular, annoying kind of traffic. No, this was the kind of traffic that made you want to scream into the abyss and hope the abyss screamed back.

"Is there any chance we can just crash this thing into a volcano and call it a day?" Ororo muttered under her breath, glancing out of the window with a frown.

"I'm afraid that would be… a rather drastic measure," Charles replied, his voice smooth like it was dipped in honey. "But I understand your frustration. Harry, how are you feeling about all of this?"

Harry didn't answer right away. He was busy trying not to get sucked into the gravity of the situation—or, more specifically, trying not to freak out about the fact that he was heading toward a place he'd only read about in the most boring, headache-inducing sections of magical law textbooks. He was about to meet Susan Bones, and she was going to need help with something way bigger than he'd originally thought. If only he could do it as effortlessly as a superhero in one of those cheesy comic books. But no, he was not a superhero (despite the fact that his muscles were probably secretly buff from all the time he'd spent flying, saving the day, and generally being awesome). He was just a teenager trying to make a difference—and, okay, maybe he was a little bit nervous.

"I've got to help her," Harry said, finally answering Charles' question. He spoke more to himself than to anyone else, but he knew they were listening. "It's like when Percy Jackson had to figure out how to save Olympus, but without the whole 'fighting gods' thing. More like… fighting bureaucrats. Which, honestly, might be even scarier."

Charles smiled. "It's true, in some ways, the most dangerous battles are fought in the halls of power."

Ororo rolled her eyes dramatically, but there was a flash of amusement behind her stormy expression. "I'm still voting for volcanoes."

Harry didn't laugh, but the comment helped settle some of his anxiety. He could do this. Maybe it wouldn't be easy, and maybe it wasn't as cool as flying into a volcano to stop some ancient evil (that would be pretty sweet, he had to admit), but he could still make a difference. And besides, if there was one thing Harry had learned from all his previous escapades, it was that things rarely went according to plan—so why not embrace the chaos?

As the X-jet cut through the sky with the kind of speed that made Harry feel like he was in a race against time, he couldn't help but think that maybe he was a little too used to the weirdness of his life. But hey, at least today wasn't going to be dull.

He turned his attention back to the article, determined to finish it, but one last sentence caught his eye. It was about a mystery surrounding Sirius' arrest that seemed too big to ignore. Something about Barty Crouch Sr. and some "hidden agenda" that never sat well with Harry. The wheels in his mind started to turn. Was this about to get even more complicated?

"Ready?" Ororo's voice broke through his thoughts, her gaze fixed ahead, sharp and focused.

"Yeah," Harry said, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. He was ready. The stakes were higher than they seemed, and as much as he hated admitting it, he had no idea what would happen next. But that was okay. Harry had a backup plan. Or, at the very least, he had hope.

"Let's do this," he said, giving a small but determined smile. "I might not have a cape, but I can still save the day."

---

The X-jet settled onto the landing pad with a soft thud, and Harry felt that familiar twinge of excitement—mixed with just the right amount of nervousness. The kind of nervousness that you get when you're about to meet important people, like when you're about to take a major exam but only slightly worse. He half expected to hear Ororo's voice behind him, calmly offering a reassuring word. She was probably going to be the most relaxed one here, as usual.

Stepping out onto the solid ground, he took in a deep breath of what he hoped was fresh air. It smelled a bit like pine trees and something else he couldn't quite place—possibly magic, possibly the smell of impending doom. All he knew was that the area was serene, picturesque, and way too quiet for someone like Harry Potter to be walking into.

He turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there, as always, looking like a wizard version of everyone's favorite grandparent. He had his robes flowing dramatically in the breeze, that twinkle in his eye, and the general vibe of "I know something you don't, but I'm not going to tell you just yet." Classic Dumbledore. He didn't even need a wand for his presence to be magical.

Next to Dumbledore stood a woman whose posture screamed "I could probably summon a battalion of centaurs with just a raised eyebrow." Her expression was calm and collected, but it was a "don't-mess-with-me-or-you-will-regret-it" kind of calm. Amelia Bones was as formidable as she was direct, and her icy stare seemed to say, I'm not here for small talk, Mr. Potter.

"Ah, Harry!" Dumbledore called, his voice as pleasant as ever. "I trust the journey was uneventful?" His eyes twinkled with that age-old wisdom, and Harry knew there was no escaping the small talk for now.

"Uneventful enough, Professor," Harry said, shrugging and trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up in his chest. He didn't really want to be here just yet—he had a sinking feeling that things were about to get really complicated—but he did want to make a difference. And that meant this was part of the deal. "Good to see you again." He turned his gaze to the woman beside him. "Madam Bones, a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Potter," Amelia said with a steely smile. She didn't offer a handshake, which was probably a good thing, because Harry was pretty sure her grip could snap a wand in half. "I trust you understand the seriousness of the matter we're facing here."

Oh, fun, Harry thought. "Of course. Seriousness is kind of my middle name at this point," he muttered under his breath. Out loud, he said, "I'm ready to help however I can."

They began walking toward the Bones family estate—big, stone, and probably filled with more history than Harry had patience for. As they strolled, Dumbledore looked over at Harry with that typical air of a wise mentor who was always asking questions that made you feel like you were back in a classroom.

"How has your training been progressing, Harry?" he asked, sounding all sage and knowing, like he was about to break into a lecture. "I trust you're mastering your powers?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's going... okay," he said, but not without that certain Harry sarcasm creeping in. "I've learned a few things. For example, I can't teleport yet. And I still can't get the hang of not blowing things up when I sneeze. But other than that, I'm doing alright."

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, as if Harry had just revealed that he'd failed to make it past the first stage of an exam. "The mastery of one's powers is no small feat, as you well know."

"You'd think I'd have it down by now," Harry muttered, but then, because he wasn't that much of a jerk, he added, "I'm learning. I just... it's kind of like learning to ride a broom, but with more fire."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Fire, you say?" he asked, looking somewhat intrigued. "That's a rather... vivid metaphor, Harry."

Harry scratched the back of his head. "Metaphors are my thing, you know," he said, offering a grin. "But seriously, Professor, I'm getting better. Just sometimes, I think my mind palace is a bit too crowded."

Ah, there it was—the mind palace. A special, private little space inside his head, where all his powers got stored. He'd been working on making it more organized, but when your powers were as chaotic as his, that was no easy task. It was like trying to store an avalanche in a broom closet.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, as though Harry had just explained the meaning of life to him. "The mind palace. Very well done. But tell me, Harry, what do you find to be your greatest challenge in this regard?"

"Well," Harry said, turning to face Dumbledore with a slight shrug. "Right now, the biggest issue is my 'PlayStation room.'"

"PlayStation room?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, his expression one of amusement. "You know, I did wonder what technology you'd adopt after all these years. I thought it might be a broomstick, but this PlayStation is—what, a new Muggle invention?"

"Kind of," Harry said, hands up in mock surrender. "It's my mental control center. Imagine it like a big, fancy switchboard, where I can manage my powers. But here's the catch: I only get to pick three powers at a time. And two of them—well, they're kinda stuck."

"Ah," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "The foundations of your power?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly," he said. "They're both permanent fixtures in my mind, like the two most boring CD albums ever. I can't take them out or switch them for anything else."

"And these powers are...?" Dumbledore pressed, clearly intrigued. He looked like he was about to launch into an impromptu lecture on the nature of power, but Harry cut him off.

"Super Soldier Constitution means I'm basically invincible, and Healing Factor means I heal like Wolverine but with fewer claws and more patience," Harry said, trying to make it sound simpler. "The two combined are kind of like the ultimate cheat codes. But it means I can't use anything else if those two are hogging all the space."

"Hmmm." Dumbledore seemed almost impressed. "It seems, Harry, that your mind's vast potential is constantly at odds with its limitations."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered, wishing for once that his head could hold more than just his worries, his history, and a bunch of random facts about Muggle pop culture.

As they approached the estate, Charles Xavier, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chimed in, his deep voice carrying a weight of authority. "And your powers, Harry, are an incredible asset—but it's the way you choose to use them that will define you."

Harry turned to him, feeling that same mix of respect and slight discomfort. "Yeah, I get it. Use them wisely, don't make the same mistakes twice. Got it."

Ororo, walking slightly behind them, gave Harry a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Harry," she said in her smooth, comforting tone. "You've got this. Sometimes, the greatest power is simply knowing when to act and when to hold back."

Harry nodded, feeling that warmth of encouragement settle over him. Because if there was one thing he knew—no matter how crazy or messed up things got—he was never alone. He had a team. And that team was ready to face whatever came next.

Now, about helping Susan Bones... Harry thought, as they walked inside the massive estate. This was going to get interesting.

The Sitting Room felt like something out of a dream—or maybe just a really posh hotel. Plush chairs that practically screamed "sit back, relax, and contemplate your life choices," and lighting that made everything seem just serious enough to make you think twice before cracking a joke. (Not that Harry was going to let that stop him. He'd probably crack a joke anyway. He was good at that.)

Ororo, looking every bit like she belonged on a throne made of storm clouds, surveyed the room like a queen who'd just been handed a coffee cup instead of a scepter. She glanced around, nodding approvingly at the décor but clearly keeping an eye on the door in case someone tried to pull off a surprise magic trick. You never could be too sure in a world like this.

Madam Bones, on the other hand, had taken one look at the room and seemed to exude "Let's get down to business." It was the kind of gaze that made Harry feel like he'd been handed a to-do list by someone who had their life so together, it could be used as a reference manual. She waved a hand like she was dismissing small talk—though she did it with an air of warmth that suggested she knew how to handle both business and pleasure.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Madam Bones said, her voice like warm, strong tea—inviting but not to be taken lightly. "We've got a lot to cover regarding Susan's situation."

Everyone slid into the plush chairs. Even Harry, who had grown accustomed to less-than-luxurious seating arrangements over the years, found himself sinking into the cushions with an exaggerated sigh of comfort. Was this what a good life felt like? He could get used to this.

Dumbledore, the master of creating an atmosphere, took his seat with all the grace of someone who had probably practiced the art of "being wise" for centuries. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice carrying that air of importance only he seemed capable of achieving. "Susan's situation is of utmost importance. We must proceed with caution, but with urgency as well."

If Harry didn't know better, he would have sworn Dumbledore had a "How to Be an Uncomfortably Wise Mentor" handbook on his nightstand. It was the kind of thing Harry would skim and throw in the bin, but somehow, it worked on everyone else.

Xavier and Ororo shared a look that was too quick for Harry to fully catch, but it was one of those "we know this is serious" glances that could probably stop a charging hippogriff in its tracks. They knew something was up, and Harry's gut told him it wasn't just about Susan.

Ororo was the first to break the silence, her voice smooth like the calm before a storm, though Harry couldn't help but think of how she could make the rain look intimidating if she wanted to. "May we inquire as to Susan's current state? Where is she?"

Madam Bones stiffened, the lines of worry crossing her face for just a moment, but she quickly masked it with an air of steely resolve. "Susan is resting in her room," she said. "Recent events have taken quite a toll on her. I'll have my House Elf fetch her."

And just like that, Libby the House Elf appeared with a pop—as if summoned by the sheer power of Madam Bones's authoritative tone. The little elf moved with the speed of a racecar in an action movie. Honestly, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Libby had been drafted into some sort of wizarding sprinting competition.

"Libby, please bring Susan to us," Madam Bones instructed, not even looking up as she spoke. It was like she had her own personal magic assistant who was more efficient than a room full of owls.

Libby didn't waste a second. Pop, she was gone.

Xavier and Ororo exchanged another look, this one a bit more curious. Ororo's eyes were wide in admiration. "It's fascinating to see such magical beings in action," she said, a note of reverence in her voice that seemed to be her own personal brand of "I'm-not-just-impressed-I'm-enlightened."

Xavier, who always seemed to be the thoughtful one, nodded. "Indeed. It's a testament to the vastness of magical life," he said, sounding like he was quoting the kind of textbook that made you feel like you were discovering the universe in a 101-level class. "Each being has its own role in this world, and each serves to enrich our understanding of its mysteries."

Meanwhile, Harry was having a mental debate with himself. House Elves were kind of amazing, right? They could teleport and do a million things all while looking adorably tiny and fierce. He wondered if he could channel some of that magic into his own abilities. Imagine Harry Potter with the teleportation powers of a House Elf—pretty cool, right?

But then he caught himself. Nope. Focus. Susan. Big deal.

At this point, Harry wasn't even sure if he was trying to impress himself or anyone else, but it didn't really matter. He was gearing up for what was going to be a long conversation. It was about Susan, sure. But with all these powerful people in the room, Harry was getting the distinct feeling that it wasn't just Susan's future on the line here. There were larger forces at play—forces that Harry had learned the hard way were often impossible to predict.

Susan walked into the Sitting Room, and if there was an Olympic event for awkward entrances, she would've earned a solid silver medal. She shuffled in like someone who'd been caught sneaking into the kitchen for cookies at 3 AM, trying to act casual but failing miserably. And then—bam—her eyes landed on Harry.

It wasn't that she hadn't seen him before, but the Harry standing before her now wasn't the scruffy, short kid she remembered from Hogwarts. Nope. This version of Harry could've walked straight off the cover of "Hero Monthly." He was taller, more confident, and his new outfit screamed "I've got things under control" without even trying. The kid was practically glowing in that whole "I'm a hero, deal with it" vibe.

Susan's face went from pale to full-on "oops" mode as her cheeks pinkened. She blinked, then blinked again, like her brain couldn't quite wrap itself around the fact that the scrawny kid she had known was now a walking piece of fine art. You know, the type that makes you forget to breathe for a moment.

But Susan, being Susan (and definitely not the type to swoon over a boy—no matter how unreasonably good-looking he was now), quickly recovered, awkwardly glancing away like she'd been caught staring at a sparkly unicorn.

Xavier and Ororo, the ever-observant duo, exchanged a glance that said, Yeah, we're definitely going to need to talk about this—and judging by the look on Ororo's face, she was probably already trying to figure out how to make the air feel less weird with one of her rainstorms of emotional clarity. Xavier, being Xavier, was the expert at reading the room, and he seemed like he was mentally calculating exactly how this interaction fit into his "Things To Dissect Later" list.

Dumbledore, who was basically the human embodiment of a well-aged bottle of wisdom (and let's be honest, probably had an entire wardrobe full of robes that screamed "grandparent energy"), was the first to break the silence. His voice was all soft and welcoming, like he was trying to coax a shy kitten out from under the couch. "Ah, Susan," he said, his tone like warm honey on toast. "Thank you for joining us. We have some very important matters to discuss regarding recent... developments."

Susan nodded, then shot a quick glance at Harry like she'd just realized she'd been caught in a "secret admirer" moment. She cleared her throat and straightened up, all business now. "After the Duelling Club incident," she began, her voice shaky but determined, "there was a lot of gossip among the Hufflepuffs about Harry's involvement. My friend Ernie Macmillan was convinced that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin, or worse—a Dark Lord in training."

Harry winced, remembering the whole snake incident. Let's just say, nobody really stopped to ask if it was an accident. It was one of those moments where thinking was clearly optional, and jumping to conclusions was mandatory. Justin Finch-Fletchley's petrified state didn't exactly help matters either, confirming everyone's worst-case scenarios. But honestly, when has logic ever gotten in the way of a good Hogwarts rumor?

Susan seemed to sense the tension and rushed on, clearly feeling guilty. "Ernie, Hannah Abbott, and I... well, we thought we could get Harry to admit the truth. We brewed some Veritaserum to, you know, get him to confess." She winced, like she was telling a story she knew wouldn't make her look like the brightest crayon in the box. "It was a stupid idea, but when people get scared... well, fear makes you do some really dumb things."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? You tried to dose me with truth serum?" he asked, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words.

Susan nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah... not my finest hour. But everything just spiraled from there. And then Hermione was petrified, and Ernie just wouldn't back down. He kept saying it was all true."

The air got thick as she dropped the bombshell. "In the chaos, I accidentally got dosed with the Veritaserum," she said, looking apologetic. "Now... well, I can tell when people are lying to me. And my magic reacts to it."

Dumbledore, ever the understanding old wizard, nodded sagely. "It's both a gift and a burden," he said, sounding like he had an entire library of phrases like that in his pocket. "But with time and proper guidance, you will learn to control it."

Xavier, who had been silently observing this whole exchange, nodded thoughtfully. His eyes were intense, like he was calculating more than just the situation at hand. "It seems your latent powers were triggered by the trauma of the past weeks," he said. "But that means you're capable of far more than you realize. This is a significant shift, but it could be immensely beneficial."

Susan took a slow breath, her eyes flicking between Dumbledore, Xavier, and Harry. There was a lot of pressure on her now, but hearing their words of reassurance made her feel like maybe—just maybe—there was a way forward. Harry gave her an encouraging smile, though his own mind was buzzing with questions about how her new power could be useful in the upcoming chaos.

Amelia Bones wasn't exactly the type to win "Aunt of the Year" awards, not that Susan was planning on nominating her. The look Amelia shot Susan could've melted through a wall—disappointment, worry, and, let's face it, just a pinch of "I'm going to have to ground you for life, young lady" all rolled into one.

"Susan," Amelia started, voice the kind of firm that made you want to shrink into the nearest shadow. "I've been the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement long enough to know when someone has royally screwed up, and, well… you've definitely outdone yourself."

Susan, who looked about as guilty as a cat caught with a paw in the cookie jar, did the classic head-bowing maneuver. Her cheeks turned redder than the Gryffindor banners at the Quidditch pitch. "I—I didn't mean for it to go so far, Aunt Amy," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was confessing to some sort of wizarding crime scene. "I acted on fear... and... and, well, panic. I should've known better."

Amelia crossed her arms, a stern line forming across her brow. "You didn't just act on fear, Susan. You went full-speed ahead with Veritaserum—without authorization. That's not just a minor slip-up; that's like walking into a dragon's den with a stick and hoping it's a marshmallow."

"I'm sorry!" Susan blurted, looking more like she wanted to curl up into a ball than stand there. "I thought... I thought if we could get Harry to admit it, we'd be able to stop the rumors. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think," Amelia interrupted, pinning Susan with a look that was equal parts disappointed and oddly understanding. "Susan, look, I know you were under pressure. But acting on impulse doesn't solve problems. It makes them worse. You know that, right?"

Susan nodded, her eyes welling up, but she didn't dare let the tears fall. Not in front of everyone, anyway.

"I know. I just—I didn't know what else to do," she confessed, guilt turning her voice into a knot. "Everyone was so convinced Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. I just... I lost sight of what mattered."

Amelia gave her a long, silent look. You could practically hear the gears turning in her head. The silence stretched on like a bad Quidditch game—no one really wanted to break it, but it was clear the tension wasn't going anywhere.

Finally, Amelia's gaze softened, just a touch, but it was enough to let Susan know there was still hope. "You messed up, Susan. Big time. But the only way forward now is to own up to it. Learn from it. You can't keep running away from your mistakes."

Susan swallowed hard, taking in every word like it was a lifeline thrown into a chasm. "I'll fix it. I swear. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

Amelia leaned in, giving her a stern yet encouraging look. "Good. But trust is earned, not given. You've got work to do."

Behind them, Harry—who had been silently listening to the back-and-forth like someone watching an intense Quidditch match—finally broke in. "Susan," he said, voice surprisingly calm despite the whole mess. "I'm not perfect. I've made my own share of mistakes. What's important now is that we learn from them and move forward."

Susan turned to Harry, her eyes wide with surprise. She'd half-expected him to throw a hissy fit and yell about betrayal or something dramatic like that. Instead, there was something in his eyes that made her feel like maybe she wasn't the worst person in the room.

"I… I don't know if I deserve your forgiveness," Susan said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I tried to hurt you, Harry. I'm so sorry for what we almost did."

Harry looked at her for a long beat, as if considering her words. The air in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, finally, he sighed—like he was about to dive into some epic monologue, but instead, he just shook his head.

"Look, Susan. I get it. You were scared, and honestly? I get why you thought what you did was necessary. It was dumb, sure, but we've all had our 'what was I thinking?' moments." He leaned forward, giving her a crooked grin that somehow felt like the sun coming out after a storm. "You're not the only one who's done something questionable, trust me."

Susan blinked, caught off guard by his forgiveness. The words "I forgive you" hit her like a tidal wave of relief. She hadn't expected this—Harry's ability to forgive, to actually get where she was coming from, was a lot more than she'd hoped for.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, barely managing to squeak the words out as she finally allowed herself a small smile. "I'll make it right, I swear."

Xavier, who'd been watching the exchange with that unnerving telepathic calm of his, nodded approvingly. "Forgiveness," he said, voice soft and measured, "is often the hardest thing to offer. But it's also one of the most powerful tools we have. In your case, Susan, you've taken the first step toward redemption. The path won't be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is."

Ororo, leaning against the wall like she had been casually saving the world in her spare time (which, let's face it, she probably had), nodded too. "Sometimes," she added with her trademark serenity, "it's not about the mistakes we make, but what we choose to do afterward."

The room grew a little warmer, the tension easing as everyone took in the gravity of what had just passed between them. There was still a lot to fix, sure. But for now, Harry and Susan had taken the first steps toward healing the cracks that had formed between them.

"Well," Harry said, his voice light and oddly cheerful for a moment of deep introspection, "I guess we've got that sorted. But I'm still going to make you treat me to Butterbeer. That's non-negotiable."

Susan laughed, the sound ringing out like a breath of fresh air. "Deal. I think I owe you a few rounds."

With the heavy stuff out of the way, they shared a brief, but sincere nod, a silent promise to move forward together—flawed, yes, but determined. And honestly? That was probably all they really needed to make things right.

---

Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!

I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!

If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!

Click the link below to join the conversation:

https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd

Can't wait to see you there!

If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:

https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007

Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s

Thank you for your support!


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.