bacchusnovels Chapter 330 The Argument at the Three Brooms Bar
Chapter 330 The Argument at the Three Brooms Bar
Chapter 330 The Argument at the Three Broomsticks Bar
Filch was satisfied.
Guilt, regret, pain, and a deep sense of self-blame weighed on him like a heavy wall, making it hard for him to breathe.
Memories of the past flooded his mind like a burst dam, bringing with them endless regret and the pain of loss.
It submerged him once again.
At this moment, Sirius Black, disguised as Filch, was no longer able to concentrate on his surroundings.
His mind was drawn back to that fateful night when James and Lily lay in pools of blood, and he was powerless to do anything about it.
More importantly—he knew Harry was nearby, so close it made his heart race. Sirius instinctively clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, the pain bringing him to his senses for a moment.
He didn't want Harry to know any of this, didn't want this godson he had never fulfilled his responsibilities to see him in this wolf-fox-like, complex state. Even more so, he didn't want Harry to misunderstand him, to misunderstand that absurd accusation of betrayal.
However, he knew in his heart that Harry might have already learned about these things from other sources—about James, about Lily,
About that past intertwined with betrayal and death.
"Harry already knows—" Sirius thought painfully, his heart filled with remorse like a knife twisting in his throat.
His gaze gradually dimmed, and his expression became even more guilty and heavy.
Just as he was caught in an emotional whirlpool, Sean quietly reached out and gently placed his hand on Sirius's knee.
It serves two purposes: to offer comfort and to issue a warning.
If Sirius were to unleash his full power, he was confident he could render his opponent unconscious in an instant without alerting anyone else.
Sirius felt the pressure of Sean's hand on his knee for a split second, paused for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
I took a deep breath.
Hermione, not far away, watched this scene with some confusion—Professor Phillips placed his hand on Filch's thigh.
Sofia, on the other hand, showed a knowing expression.
Meanwhile, the people at the table continued to talk about Sirius Black's exploits, completely unaware of what was going on.
"Because Blake is colluding with the mysterious man?" Ms. Rosmerta asked cautiously, lowering her voice.
“It was worse than that.” Fudge lowered his voice and began to recall those dark days. “Few people know that the Potters were being hunted by Voidman. Dumbledore knew of this danger and immediately advised them to cast the Faithful Charm so they could evade Voidman’s pursuit.”
"How do you use the spell?" Ms. Rosmerta asked, holding her breath and filled with curiosity.
Professor Flitwick coughed twice, gathering his thoughts.
“It’s an extremely complex spell,” he explained in a shrill voice. “It uses magic to embed a secret deep into the soul of a living person. This secret can only be kept in the heart of the chosen one—the secret-keeper—and will never be discovered unless the secret-keeper reveals it himself. As long as the secret-keeper keeps his mouth shut, even if the Mystic searches Lily and James’ village for millennia, even pressing his face against their windows, he will not find a trace of them.”
"So, Black is the Potters' confidant?" Mrs. Rosmerta pressed in a low voice.
“Yes,” Professor McGonagall replied in a deep voice, “James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would rather die than betray them. And Black himself planned to go into hiding—however, Dumbledore was still uneasy. I remember he offered to be the Potters’ confidant.”
"He suspects Blake?" Ms. Rosmerta asked in shock.
"Dumbledore had long suspected that someone close to the Potters was tipping off the Man of Void," Professor McGonagall's tone turned grim. "He was almost certain that someone they trusted had betrayed them. In fact, for a time he believed that one of us had betrayed them and provided the Man of Void with vital intelligence."
"But James still insisted on choosing Black?"
"Yes," Fudge sighed, his voice heavy, "but the spell hasn't even lasted a week—"
"Blake betrayed them?" Mrs. Rosmerta's voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“That’s right,” Fudge continued. “Black was tired of being a double agent, and he was prepared to openly support Vader. Apparently, he intended to announce his stance the moment the Potters were murdered. However, unexpectedly, Vader suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of young Harry Potter, losing all his magic and becoming extremely weak, forcing him to flee. This put Black in a very difficult situation—he had exposed himself, but lost his backer. He had no choice but to flee like a wolf—”
"Despicable, vile traitor!" Hagrid roared, his voice like thunder, and the entire bar fell silent instantly.
"Hagrid, calm down," Professor McGonagall hurriedly reminded him. "I've seen him!" Hagrid roared. "I might be the last person to see him! That night, I carried little Harry out of the rubble and had just left the Potters' house when Black showed up, riding his flying motorcycle."
I never suspected he was a traitor; I thought he was there to rescue someone. Looking at him, pale and trembling—do you know what I did? I comforted that murderer!
"Hagrid, please!" Professor McGonagall pleaded again, her voice low.
"How could I have imagined he wasn't grieving for Lily and James?" Hagrid continued, roaring. "He actually said to me, 'Give me Harry, I'm his godfather, I'll take care of him.' Ha! I had Dumbledore's orders, so of course I refused. I told him Harry was going to his aunt's. He tried to argue, but eventually gave up and told me to take Harry there on his motorcycle. Saying something like, 'I don't need it anymore.'"
"I should have sensed something was wrong then. That motorcycle was his prized possession; how could he give it up so easily? He knew he needed to escape and was afraid of being tracked down by the Ministry of Magic."
"What if I really handed Harry over to him?" Hagrid gritted his teeth. "I bet he'd throw Harry into the sea halfway there! A betrayal of his best friend's son! When a wizard turns to darkness, he cares for nothing, he recognizes no one."
Hagrid's roar gradually subsided, and the bar fell into a deathly silence.
Sirius's hands involuntarily clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.
Hagrid's words were like a knife, piercing deep into his heart.
He knew he had never betrayed James and Lily, but the truth had been twisted into this way—everyone believed he was the traitor, the cold-blooded and ruthless traitor.
After a long silence, Mrs. Rosmerta said softly, with a hint of barely perceptible satisfaction, "But he couldn't escape, could he? The Ministry of Magic caught him the very next day?"
"Ah, if only we had caught him," Fudge replied bitterly. "Unfortunately, it wasn't us. It was Peter Pettigrew—another friend of the Potters. He was probably devastated to learn that Black had betrayed them, so he hunted him down alone."
"Is Pettigrew the short, chubby boy who always followed them around?" Ms. Rosmerta recalled.
“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said, “he idolized Black and James, but in terms of talent, he could never match them. I was always very strict with him, and looking back now, I deeply regret it.”
“Alright, Minerva, don’t blame yourself,” Fudge gently comforted her. “Sirius died a heroic death. The witnesses, though all Muggles, whose memories we later erased, described how Pettigrew stepped forward, crying and demanding of Black, ‘Lily and James! Sirius, how could you do this?’ Then he drew his wand. But Black was faster, blasting Pettigrew to pieces—”
Professor McGonagall sobbed, her voice slurred, "Foolish boy, he had no chance at all. We should have handed Black over to the Ministry of Magic—"
"If I had run into Blake back then," Hagrid said through gritted teeth, "I would have torn him to pieces!"
“Hagrid, you don’t understand,” Fudge’s voice sharpened. “Only a well-trained magical law enforcement team could have subdued Black. I was the deputy director of the Department of Magical Disasters at the time, and I was the first to arrive at the scene after Black committed murder. I’ll never forget that scene—streets exploded, houses were scattered everywhere, Muggles were crying their eyes out. Black stood there laughing, and all that remained of Little Star before him was—a pile of blood-stained robes and some—some fragments—”
Fudge's voice suddenly stopped, and only the sounds of five people sobbing and sniffling echoed in the bar.
Harry, hiding under the table, overheard everything and felt his inner world crumble.
He never imagined that his godfather—a man he had never met—was the culprit who killed his parents.
"Why?" Harry cried out in his heart, tears welling up in his eyes, but he forced himself to remain silent, not letting anyone notice his presence.
At this moment, Sirius's heart was aching as if it were being torn apart.
He knew that Peter Petitrou was the real traitor, the one who betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort.
But Peter successfully faked his death and escaped everyone's accountability, while he—Sirius Black—was forever condemned as a traitor.
The conversation at the table continued.
"That's it, Rosmerta." Fudge's voice sounded somewhat subdued. "Black was captured by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Team and imprisoned in Azkaban, while Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class. I suppose that at least brings some comfort to his poor mother."
Ms. Rosmerta sighed deeply, her expression complex.
"Minister, has Blake really gone mad?"
“I wish I could say that,” Fudge replied slowly, a hint of worry in his voice. “To be honest, I believe he did go through a period of mental instability after his master fell. The killing of Pettigrew and so many Muggles was a desperate act of madness—cruel and pointless. However, I saw Black when I last visited Azkaban.”
"I must admit, I was very surprised. He didn't talk to himself in the dark and lose his mind like the other prisoners."
On the contrary, he was unusually calm. He seemed quite lucid during our conversation. That state made me very uneasy.
"You would almost think he was just bored from being imprisoned for so long—he even asked me if I had a newspaper and wanted to do the crossword puzzles in it. His calmness really surprised me; the Dementors seemed to have almost no effect on him. You know, he was one of the most heavily guarded prisoners in Azkaban."
"So what do you think he's trying to do after escaping from prison?" Ms. Rosmerta asked nervously. "Good heavens, could he be planning to go and seek refuge with the mysterious man?"
"I guess this is his final plan," Fudge said vaguely, his voice low. "But we hope to catch him before that happens. I must say, the Mystic is currently isolated and helpless; it's a temporary situation, but if Blake manages to reunite with him, things will become very dangerous."
"His loyalty makes him one of the Mystic's most powerful allies, and the consequences of them joining forces would be unimaginable. The thought of it sends chills down my spine."
A soft clinking sound broke the brief silence as someone gently placed the cup back on the table.
Just as the conversation was becoming heavy, Sean tapped the table lightly, drawing everyone's attention.
"I've had some new thoughts about Sirius Black lately. Is it possible that Sirius Black didn't betray the Potters? Or perhaps someone framed him?"
Sean's voice echoed through the bar, like a cold wind sweeping through the entire room. Everyone was stunned.
Filch's gaze softened instantly, a barely perceptible tremor appearing at the corner of his eye, but he quickly concealed this wavering, silently staring at his hands.
In a corner not far from the bar, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also momentarily stunned.
Harry's head was spinning; Sean's assumption had left him in a state of utter confusion. He couldn't believe that anyone would so openly question Black's crimes, especially his own professor, Phillips.
Ron opened his mouth wide, as if he wanted to say something, but swallowed his words before they could come out. Hermione, who was usually good at analyzing logic, didn't dare to draw conclusions this time either, and just looked at Sean with a pair of questioning eyes.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were completely bewildered. Hagrid reached out his hand, wanting to... Even Fudge's hand froze in mid-air, his grip on the wine glass stiffening.
"What?" Professor McGonagall looked at Sean in disbelief, her brow furrowed. "Professor Phillips, don't you know that Black confessed to his crime? He was there, and almost all the evidence points to him!"
Professor Flitwick frowned. "There's no explanation for Blake's behavior at the time. All the witnesses saw him laughing like a madman at the scene of Peter Petitrou's death—"
Just then, Fudge finally spoke. His previous nervousness towards Sean vanished, replaced by a tone thick with sarcasm and disdain, utterly contemptuous: "Professor Phillips, I thought you were a smart man, but your assumption is utterly absurd. Black was framed? Are you serious? Did he fabricate the deaths of the twelve Muggles and Peter Petitrou?"
He emphasized each word, repeating, "Injustice."
Sean was not deterred by Fudge's sarcasm. He slowly said, "Minister Fudge, precisely because everything seems so irrefutable, we should remain skeptical and not be easily misled by appearances."
"Isn't it puzzling that Peter Petirou's body was never found? And isn't it very unusual that Black voluntarily went to jail and never defended himself? If he really betrayed James and Lily, why didn't he explain himself in court?"
Fudge's laughter suddenly became even more exaggerated. He shook his head and looked at Sean mockingly: "Professor Phillips, you really are a genius. Your mind is full of those unfathomable magical knowledge."
"But perhaps you've been out of touch with reality for too long and have forgotten basic common sense. Blake volunteered for prison? He didn't defend himself because he'd completely gone mad! You don't think he was making some noble self-sacrifice, do you? That's just the act of a madman!"
He took a large gulp of his drink and said with a cold laugh, "In fact, everything Black did in Azkaban proves that. He never resisted, never spoke, because his heart had been consumed by darkness and madness. If he had any sense left, he would have tried to escape long ago, instead of waiting until now!"
"But he did escape," Sean added casually.
Fudge was taken aback by Sean's words, his smile stiffening slightly, but he quickly waved his hand, trying to change the subject: "In any case, Sirius Black's crimes are undeniable. Our task now is to apprehend him, not to discuss these baseless assumptions."
"Perhaps we really have missed something," Sean insisted. "Sometimes, the most obvious facts hide a deeper truth."
Fudge completely lost his patience and scoffed, "You can continue with your theory, of course, but please don't waste our time. Blake is a criminal, there's no doubt about that. If you insist on questioning it, you're insulting the innocent victims who died!"
That was the end of the conversation. Fudge picked up his glass, ignoring Sean as if his words were worthless.
Just then, Professor McGonagall eased the tension, whispering, "Connelly, if you're planning to dine with the Headmaster, you'd better head back to the castle now."
As everyone got up and left, only silence remained in the Three Brooms Bar.
As their footsteps faded into the distance, Harry finally peeked out from under the table, his heart heavy.
Ron and Hermione were equally shocked, staring blankly at Harry, unsure of what to say.
"Harry?" Hermione asked in a low voice, her tone full of worry.
Harry swallowed hard, his eyes somewhat unfocused.
He never imagined that his godfather had such a complicated past with his parents.
All of this seemed like a cruel joke of fate, falling on his head without warning.