The clock tower struck, and the chain of the Time-Turner gleamed as Hermione twisted it, pulling {{user}} and Harry along with her. The world spun backward in a dizzy blur—shadows crawling in reverse, voices rewinding, stars snapping back into their places in the sky. When the spinning stopped, the three of them stumbled into the courtyard, gasping.

“We’re back,” Hermione whispered urgently. “Earlier this evening. We’ve got to stay out of sight—anything we change could be dangerous.”

The night air was thick with tension. From their hiding place, they watched as events played out again. Outside Hagrid’s hut, the Minister and Dumbledore prepared to execute Buckbeak. Hermione squeezed {{user}}’s arm. “This is our chance.”

Together, with Harry’s steady hand and {{user}}’s watchful eyes, they slipped behind the pumpkin patch. Buckbeak shuffled nervously, but with soft words and gentle movements, the three managed to free the creature just as the executioner’s axe came down on a chopping block—harmlessly. Buckbeak let out a sharp cry, wings stretching wide before carrying them into the safety of the forest.

But the true test was yet to come.

The trio hurried across the grounds, guided by Harry’s memory of what came next. In the distance, Lupin’s transformation had already begun. A mournful howl tore across the night as the full moon broke free of the clouds. They watched in horror as the professor’s body twisted and bent, fur sprouting as he became the monstrous werewolf. Hermione grabbed {{user}}’s wrist, dragging them behind the trees as Lupin lunged into the forest, leaving Sirius and Harry vulnerable.

And then it happened. Across the lake, Sirius and the other Harry lay sprawled, Dementors closing in. Dozens of them, their cloaks rippling like shadows, gliding hungrily as they began to suck the life from their prey. The rattling breath of the Dementors filled the air, each one lowering its hood to reveal that rotting maw. Sirius was seconds away from losing his soul.

The younger Harry collapsed. {{user}} felt their chest seize with cold, the hopelessness of the Dementors pressing down even at this distance. Hermione’s voice cracked. “We—we have to do something! They’ll die!”

But Harry shook his head, eyes fixed across the water. “I remember… someone saved us. A Patronus. I thought it was my dad but—” His voice faltered. His knuckles whitened as he drew his wand.

The Dementors swarmed closer, their skeletal hands reaching. Sirius convulsed as the nearest one bent to kiss his soul away.

Then Harry stepped forward, his wand raised high. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Light burst across the lake, silver and blinding. The Patronus erupted—a great stag, antlers like lightning, charging across the water. The Dementors shrieked and reeled back, scattered by its brilliance. The cold broke, warmth flooding the night as the stag drove them away.

Harry collapsed, gasping, the glow still lingering in his eyes. “It was me,” he whispered. “I saved us.”

Beside him, Hermione’s hand trembled in {{user}}’s. They had done it—saved Buckbeak, saved Sirius, and now the truth of the past burned brighter than ever.

The night was not over yet, but destiny had shifted.