"Professor Lupin, he's badly injured, you need to save him!" 

Dumbledore's response was a low murmur, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world within it. "Yes, it can be expected that Remus is not in a good situation right now, but Harry, there are probably more urgent matters. Ah, Miss Granger is here."

The creak of the door hinge was a prelude to Hermione's entrance, her figure framed by the doorway as she rushed in, a bandage adorning her forehead like a warrior's badge of honor. Her eyes, upon seeing Harry's conscious form, became full of relief and unshed tears.

"Harry!" Her voice was a mix of joy and disbelief, a symphony of emotions that resonated through the room.

She rushed over like a little deer and hugged Harry tightly.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with urgency, but he didn't interrupt the heartwarming scene.

"I can't believe it, Harry!" Hermione's voice was thick with emotion, her relief palpable. "Professor McGonagall told me that they saved Hagrid and Professor Snape, and no one died. We're so lucky!" 

Harry nodded with a heavy heart.

"Now is not the time for celebrations, Miss Granger–" Dumbledore's voice cut through the moment, a gentle yet firm reminder of the gravity of their situation.

"We are likely to face many troubles. As I just told you, Miss Granger, helping Sirius clear his name is not a simple matter." His tone was low, a reflection of the somber reality they faced.

Harry, eager to contribute, found himself momentarily checked by Dumbledore's stern visage, a silent counsel to heed the gravity of their actions.

"–The Dementors have already notified the Ministry of Magic. I believe Cornelius and his Aurors may appear at the school gates at any moment. If they see Sirius before we're prepared, the situation may become extremely disadvantageous for us." Dumbledore's words were a stark warning.

"Sirius is currently still unconscious. According to Madam Pomfrey's assessment, he may need several hours to regain consciousness. This means he can't speak a word in his defense, and his weakened state also makes some of the viable methods to reveal the truth unusable, unless we want to kill him. And right now, apart from two underage wizards, everyone who saw the truth tonight is in no condition to testify."

"But you believe he's innocent, don't you, Professor?" Harry couldn't help but interrupt and ask.

"Yes, I believe." Dumbledore nodded quickly in the face of doubts.

"To be honest, Harry, this truth is not beyond my expectations. But you must know that the Ministry of Magic may not want the public to know that they imprisoned an innocent man in Azkaban for twelve years, and right now, we lack crucial evidence." 

"Professor Watson!" Hermione's exclamation was a spark in the gloom, "He knows everything. He helped Sirius enter Hogwarts."

When Hermione mentioned Professor Watson, Harry noticed a flash of anger or helplessness in Dumbledore's blue eyes.

"Yes, Bryan knows everything." Dumbledore nodded with a complicated expression. "But he is currently missing as well. However, I'm sure Cornelius will arrive here before him. I'll be blunt—unless we can present Peter to the Ministry, Cornelius probably won't accept the failure of the Ministry." 

"What do you need us to do, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione quickly caught on, taking a deep breath and pushing aside thoughts of the battlefield strewn with limbs and body parts.

"It's like this–" Under the gaze of Hermione and Harry, Dumbledore took out a yellowed piece of parchment from his pocket.

"When I found you, I also unexpectedly found this thing. It fell out of your pocket, Harry. I won't waste time telling you how surprised I was when I realized its purpose. In fact, I also sensed a trace of special residual power from it."

'Special residual power?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance of mutual bewilderment. The air was thick with tension, a palpable force that seemed to weigh heavily upon their young shoulders. Dumbledore's presence, usually a source of comfort, now cast a shadow of uncertainty.

Dumbledore, whose eyes had moments before flickered with an anxious spark, now adopted a posture of deep contemplation. His gaze drifted upwards, fixating on the intricate patterns that danced across the stone ceiling. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the soft crackling of the fireplace, until at last, he spoke to himself in a questioning tone.

"According to Miss Granger's statement, you have always had this Marauder's Map, Harry. How do you think it ended up in Mr. Malfoy's hands?" 

Harry's mind reeled, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. They had been discussing the dire matter of Sirius's impending arrest, and yet, here was Dumbledore, suddenly so concerned about the map's whereabouts.

"On Christmas…," Harry's voice trailed off, the memory surfacing like a specter from the past.

Hermione's gaze was unyielding, locked onto Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes trying to find something in them to confirm her suspicions.

"Malfoy and Mr. Filch had barged into the Gryffindor Lounge. We got into some trouble then. If, at that time, Scabbers… I mean, Peter had followed Malfoy…" Harry's voice was a whisper, barely audible over the crackling flames.

Hermione asked in a low voice, "Harry, after that, did you confirm that the Marauder's Map was still with you?"

"No," Harry immediately shook his head, defending himself. "I haven't used it for a while…"

"It seems we have finally figured out a problem," Dumbledore's nod was one of sage approval, his eyes alighting upon Hermione with a spark of recognition. "But there is still another question. The Marauder's Map in Remus's possession merged with the one in Mr. Malfoy's possession. However, since Sirius and his friends never made a second map, what is the map in Remus's possession?"

The question loomed large, a phenomenon that seemed to defy all logic. Harry's thoughts churned, but no answer presented itself.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione's breathing became shallow. She called out to Dumbledore softly.

Dumbledore's attention shifted, his eyes briefly darting to the door before returning to Hermione. His words were clipped, each one measured and concise. "Some questions can only be answered by ourselves, Miss Granger. This is a very dangerous task, but if successful, oh, I believe you will definitely succeed, tonight you may save more than just one life."

Harry's mouth opened slightly, a silent witness to the exchange. He looked from Dumbledore to Hermione, his mind racing to keep pace with the unfolding talk.

"But, Professor…" Hermione nervously grabbed her collar, her voice trembling. But Dumbledore stood up directly, took out his wand, waved it, and a gust of wind seemed to appear out of nowhere in the closed room. In the gentle breeze, Harry and Hermione felt as if something had merged into their bodies.

"Just a precaution," Dumbledore assured them, his eyes meeting their bewildered gazes. "It will prevent your names from appearing on this marvelous map."

Confusion reigned supreme in Harry's mind, his eyes darting between the map and Hermione, whose lips were pressed into a thin line.

"If you can't figure out what you need to do, Miss Granger, I suggest you walk along the original path. I wish you good luck." Dumbledore's voice was a distant echo as he deposited the map on Harry's bed and made his swift departure, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

"Good luck?" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "But weren't we discussing how to save Sirius? What good is luck going to do us?"

In the wake of Dumbledore's exit, Hermione's hands moved with purpose, delving into the fabric of her collar. After a brief search, she produced a long, slender gold chain, its luster a stark contrast to the room's gloom.

With equal parts haste and determination, Hermione pocketed the Marauder's Map and seized Harry's invisibility cloak from the bedside table, draping it over her arm. "Come on, Harry, we don't have much time to waste."

Harry walked over in a daze, observing the shiny hourglass hanging from the gold chain, wondering what its purpose was.

"Come on," Hermione urged, placing the chain around Harry's neck. "Are you ready?"

"What is this for?" Harry was confused. He felt they were being foolish. Professor Lupin's life was in danger, Sirius was also in danger, Ron was still unconscious, and Hagrid was in a coma. Yet Dumbledore gave some riddles and left without any explanation, and he and Hermione were playing with a souvenir.

Hermione's fingers danced upon the hourglass, setting it into motion with a series of deliberate turns.

Time, it seemed, was about to take a most unexpected turn.

The once brightly illuminated infirmary suddenly vanished in an instant, leaving Harry with the sensation of hurtling through space on the Knight Bus, its sudden acceleration yanking him backward. The world around him dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors, a whirlwind of shapes and shadows that teased his vision. He strained to discern the figures lurking within the blur, but his head spun with a dizzying intensity, and his ears throbbed with an unrelenting pressure. He wanted to see clearly around him, but his dizzy head and throbbing eardrums prevented him from seeing anything.

Beside him, Hermione seemed to navigate the weirdness with a seasoned grace, as if the disorienting journey was a familiar path to her. In stark contrast, Harry grappled with the sensation, his eardrums swollen, his consciousness steering on the brink of oblivion, yet the expected sound of his own voice was strangely muted.

Abruptly, the turmoil ceased, and his feet found the solidity of the ground once more. Clarity returned, and they stood in the hospital wing again, now shrouded in darkness. A flicker of memory reminded Harry that the lights had been extinguished, and the once audible commotion beyond the walls had faded into silence.

Harry's eyes darted around, seeking understanding in the gloom. His gaze landed on the clock, and his heart skipped a beat as he registered the time displayed by the hands—still some distance from ten o'clock.

"Nine forty–" The words tumbled from his lips, a whisper in the dark.

Hermione, her expression etched with concern, donned their invisibility cloaks. "Where are we at this time?" she murmured, her voice tinged with worry.

"Maybe we're still in the common room celebrating–" Harry's mind grappled with the possibility, though he struggled to accept the reality of his own conjecture.

"Oh, yes, that's it!" Hermione's soft exclamation broke through the uncertainty. She seized Harry's hand, urgency propelling them from the room.

At this time, Madam Pomfrey had finished her rounds and was comfortably flipping through magazines in her small room, listening to the songs playing on the radio. She probably couldn't imagine the trouble she would face in a few hours.

"We–what–is going on!" Harry couldn't help but ask as they climbed the stairs.

"We went back in time… Ah, using this Time-Turner–" Hermione's explanation came in hurried fragments as they climbed up the stairs.

When they reached the third floor, they found Percy climbing the stairs as well. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming a song by himself. It seemed that he had finished patrolling the castle and was heading back to the dormitory.

Hermione stopped talking, and once Percy was out of their sight, she grabbed Harry's hand and ran down the third-floor corridor.

"I got it from Professor McGonagall on the first day back at school last term. I've been using it to attend all my classes this year. Professor McGonagall made me swear not to tell anyone. She wrote many letters to the Ministry to get one for me. She had to prove to them that I was a model student and would never use it for anything outside of academics. I turn it, and then I can relive a period of time, so I can attend several classes at the same time, see?"

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