Chapter 27: The Most Dangerous Criminal in Recent History Has Escaped Azkaban

Chapter 27: The Most Dangerous Criminal in Recent History Has Escaped Azkaban

Leon quickly leafed through the book. He found that every page, even the blank margins, was covered in dense, scrawled handwriting.

The book's original owner clearly had no respect for the author. Entire sections of the original text were crossed out, with new, improved potion-making instructions scribbled alongside them.

Leon marvelled at the notes. Snape, he thought, was an undeniable genius.

Ignoring the potion modifications for now, Leon skimmed through the brittle pages until he found what he was searching for. The margins of this page were filled with a frenzied, almost manic script.

It began with a single, simple syllable. This was then expanded, crossed out, and shortened again and again, perfectly displaying the creator's entire thought process.

Leon studied it intently, not missing a single detail. This was the blueprint of a self-invented curse. It was invaluable.

After countless trials, Snape had achieved something incredible: he had created his own, devastatingly powerful spell.

A note read: "The final version must be concise and elegant. Uttered with speed and conviction, its power is absolute."

On the next line, the frantic scrawl was gone, replaced by a single, deliberate incantation.

"Sectumsempra."

Leon took a deep breath, his hand tightening on his wand, a thrill running through him. He steadied himself and spoke the word, his voice quick and sharp.

No light erupted from his wand, but a deep gash instantly appeared on the surface of a nearby desk, sending wood splinters flying.

Unlike the flashy, hysterical Unforgivable Curses, Sectumsempra was a hidden viper, striking from the shadows, lethal and silent.

Leon was very satisfied. He liked this spell immensely.

He pocketed his wand and, content, strode out of the Potions classroom.

Less than a minute later, he returned, looking annoyed. He'd forgotten to clean up the mess.

Hogwarts operated on a five-day week, so students were free to arrange their own weekends.

So on Saturday morning, Leon enjoyed a rare lie-in, almost missing breakfast in the Great Hall.

Sitting at the Slytherin table, Leon felt a pang of disappointment. His dining companion, Draco, was apparently "unwell" and had sent Goyle to fetch him some food. Judging by Goyle's expression, Leon figured Malfoy wouldn't be showing his face in the Hall for a while.

A pity. The little blond ponce was surprisingly fun to torment.

The morning post arrived. Owls swooped into the Great Hall, dropping letters and parcels onto the tables in a flurry.

At the Gryffindor table, Neville received a Howler from his grandmother. The old woman's shrill voice seemed to shake the enchanted ceiling. The poor boy was frozen in terror, looking even more dazed than usual.

Leon watched the petrified Neville from a distance, taking an amused sip of his milk.

His gaze shifted to Ron, who had also received a parcel but had quickly, and with a blush, stuffed it into his bag. He was worried it was something shabby, Leon guessed. Hand-me-down robes from his brothers, probably. Worried about his reputation.

Such predictable, childish pride.

Leon's gaze moved again, landing on Harry, who sat next to Ron, eating silently with his head down. Leon frowned.

Today, almost everyone had received something from their family. Even a Howler was a sign someone cared.

Everyone except the famous Harry Potter.

After Leon's... intervention, the Dursleys' treatment of Harry had improved on the surface. But that was out of terror, not affection.

At this moment, Harry probably envied Neville. Because hidden within that screaming letter was a simple message: "If anything happens to you, your grandmother won't know what to do."

Just then, a sharp hoot cut through the hall. The other post owls scattered in a panic, flapping frantically for the corners of the room. The students looked up and saw a massive Great Grey Owl.

It spread its wings, imperiously scattering the other birds, and did a slow, arrogant lap of the hall before descending towards Harry.

A parcel landed with a soft thud in front of him.

He looked at it, confused, but the large, clear script on top read: Harry Potter.

He opened it. Inside was a new, perfectly tailored suit, identical to his first. A note was pinned to it.

"An elegant Peaky Blinder should always be well-dressed. And as I said before, Harry: you were born to wear this suit."

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes searching for Leon. He looked across the hall, his face filled with gratitude, but Leon was already on his feet, his back to him, walking away.

Leon, taking a final sip of milk, allowed himself a small, private smile.

Another piece on the board. The saviour of the wizarding world... so easily played.

Razor landed silently on the table beside him. Leon stroked the great owl's head, taking the Daily Prophet and a single letter from its leg. He waved it off and unfolded the newspaper.

He was pleased to see his efforts had not been in vain.

The front page was dominated by a moving photograph of a man. His eyes were sunken and dark, his face gaunt, but he radiated an aura of pure danger, snarling at the camera.

The headline was simple and bold: SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!

Leon skimmed the article. It detailed how Black, a mass-murderer, had escaped, and how the Ministry was mounting a massive manhunt.

Leon rubbed his chin, feeling pleased. His little trip to Azkaban, his carefully planted hint, had paid off.

Now, Black would be trying to find his way to Birmingham.

He hoped the man would be quick about it. The young wizards at Shelby Manor had been waiting for their new tutor for long enough.

The escape was so sensational that it had bumped another major story to the inside pages: "GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN INVESTIGATION CONTINUES."

Leon knew exactly what that was: Dumbledore's bait.

After skimming the rest of the paper and finding nothing of interest, Leon set it aside and opened his letter.

It was from both Moody and Lupin. From the tone, they were agitated.

It began without any greeting.

"Shelby, did you have anything to do with Sirius Black's escape?!"