bacchusnovels Chapter 331 Guiding Sirius
Chapter 331 Guiding Sirius
Chapter 331 Guiding Sirius
Harry wasn't quite sure how he got back to Honeydukes's cellars, or how he made his way back to Hogwarts Castle through that long, narrow tunnel. He only remembered that the journey seemed suspiciously short, as if all the time had slipped away in his hazy, confused mind. His head was still ringing with the words he'd overheard in the Three Broomsticks pub, so heavy that he could barely think straight.
Why didn't anyone tell him?
Why did none of the people who cared so much for Harry—Dumbledore, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Cornelius Fudge, etc.—mention that Harry's parents were murdered because of the betrayal of their best friend, Sirius Black? Why wasn't there a single word about it?
As he mechanically sat down at the dinner table, the three little ones watched him uneasily, but dared not utter a word.
The three of them also heard the horrifying news, but because they were sitting next to Percy, they could only exchange glances silently.
The noise and laughter at dinner seemed to come through a thick curtain to Harry; he mechanically moved his cutlery without feeling any taste.
When they returned to the crowded common room, Fred and George, especially excited about the upcoming final exams, were detonating half a dozen dung bombs, their laughter and shouts filling the room.
Harry couldn't stand the atmosphere, so he quietly slipped into the empty dormitory. He went straight to his bedside table, his only thought being to find one thing—the leather-bound photo album Hagrid had given him two years ago, which contained magical photos of his parents.
He sat on the bed, drew the curtains, opened the photo album, and began to search carefully page by page. His parents in the photos were smiling so happily, waving their hands in the pictures, as if they had never left.
He quickly found a photo of his parents' wedding. It was a heartwarming and joyful picture: his father, James, was all smiles as he waved to the camera, his tousled black hair, just like Harry's, flowing in the wind; his mother, Lily, was radiant and happy, standing hand in hand with James.
However, there was one more person—someone Harry had never really paid attention to: his best man.
His gaze involuntarily lingered on the man.
That's Sirius Black.
Harry had never realized that the man in the photo was him before, and now he could hardly connect the handsome man in the photo with the wanted fugitive.
In the photo, Blake is all smiles and radiant, showing none of the sallow, sunken face and lifeless eyes that came with twelve years in Azkaban.
Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Is the person in this photo really Sirius Black, who later betrayed James and Lily?
Was he already working for Voldemort at that time? Had he already planned how to betray his friends and send them to their deaths? Was that smiling, handsome face really the culprit who caused him to lose his parents?
Harry felt a surge of anger. He wasn't even afraid of Dementors! Dementors couldn't break him, couldn't stir any remorse for his crimes within him, because he had no conscience. He wouldn't hear his mother's screams—he wouldn't be tormented by that desperate sound every time a Dementor approached, like he had been.
Anger made Harry's hand tremble. He slammed the photo album shut and shoved it back into the bedside table, his movements stiff, his anger almost burning everything.
He took off his robe and glasses, rolled over onto the bed, and made sure the curtains completely covered him.
The dormitory door creaked open.
"Harry?" Ron's voice sounded hesitantly.
Harry remained stiff, pretending to be asleep, without making a sound.
Ron stood there for a moment, looking at Harry, then sighed softly, closed the dormitory door, and went into the common room, where Hermione and Sophia were waiting.
When the two women saw Ron return, they immediately surrounded him.
"How is Harry?" Hermione asked with some concern.
Ron shrugged, looking somewhat helpless. "He's lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. I can tell he's not doing well." Ron's tone was full of frustration. "I don't know how to help him."
Sofia pursed her lips, her expression becoming somewhat serious.
She leaned against the fireplace, watching the flames dance for a while, then said thoughtfully, "He must be thinking about what happened to his parents. Hearing those things must have been incredibly difficult for him. Knowing that his best friend betrayed his parents must have been a huge shock."
Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "I can imagine how Harry feels. He's always thought of his parents' deaths as an inevitable disaster, or as Voldemort's direct cause. But now, to suddenly learn that it was because their most trusted friend betrayed them—that pain is unbearable." Her voice lowered, heavy with worry.
"We have to do something," Ron said anxiously, looking at Hermione and Sophia. "We can't just leave him there alone—he's already lonely enough."
"But what can we do?" Hermione sighed, her face filled with helplessness. "We can't change what he knows. Black's betrayal is history, and no amount of explanation can erase the hurt that fact caused Harry."
Sophia pondered for a moment, then looked up and offered a rather reasonable suggestion: "We may not be able to change the past, but we can help Harry get out of this shadow. He shouldn't have to bear this alone. We are his friends, and we should let him know that he is not alone."
"You're right," Hermione nodded in agreement, "He needs us."
Ron asked, somewhat puzzled, "But how do we make him understand? He doesn't want to talk to anyone about these things right now."
.
Inside the room, Harry finally loosened his clenched fists, rolled over and lay on his back, his eyes wide open, staring at the curtains above him, his thoughts sinking deeper and deeper.
Sirius Black betrayed his parents.
These words spread through Harry's mind like poison. He could picture Black's smiling face, just like in the photograph, grinning at him in the darkness.
He closed his eyes, and it seemed as if he heard a whisper in his ear.
"It worked. The Potters have made me their secret agent." Then came another sharp laugh—Voldemort's laugh, cold and piercing, the same kind of laugh that echoed in Harry's mind whenever a Dementor approached.
Anger and hatred surged up again, and Harry gripped the sheets tightly, as if trying to suppress all his emotions.
Harry made a silent vow in his heart:
He will definitely pay the price for this.
"He will pay for this!" Sirius roared in a low voice.
He clenched his fist tightly and slammed it against the wooden table next to him, his palm visibly turning red.
Sean sat quietly opposite him, his expression remaining calm.
Through Sirius's pained and angry expression, Sean saw the deep-seated desire for revenge in his heart, not only for the deaths of James and Lily, but also for the long years he had been framed and imprisoned.
"Sirius," Sean said softly, "I understand how you feel right now. All the pain and anger you've endured over the years makes you feel you have to seek justice for the past."
Sirius's eyes flickered slightly. Although his gaze remained gloomy, Sean's words seemed to make him pause for a moment.
"Peter Pedro," Sirius said through gritted teeth, his voice filled with resentment, "He betrayed us all! He sold out James and Lily, killed them, and made everyone think it was me! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been locked up in Azkaban for twelve long years!" With that, he slammed his hand on the wooden table next to him again.
This time, the skin on his knuckles was broken.
Sean sighed, stood up, and walked over to Sirius. "I understand why you want to kill him with your own hands."
But you can't let revenge cloud your judgment. We have more important things to do.
Sirius Black stared coldly at Sean: "More important? Is there anything more important than making him pay the price?"
"Yes," Sean said firmly, looking directly at him, "Harry."
Sirius's expression suddenly froze, and his breathing became heavy.
He was silent for a moment, then finally lowered his head and murmured, "Harry—"
“Harry needs you. He needs to know the truth, not see you destroy yourself for revenge,” Sean continued, his tone softening. “Peter Pedyru must be punished, but we must ensure that justice is served.”
Instead of letting hatred destroy everything.
Sirius's shoulders trembled slightly as he struggled fiercely with anger within himself.
"If you act impulsively now and kill Peter," Sean said slowly, a hint of warning in his voice, "you may never be able to explain yourself to Harry. You will lose the chance to prove your innocence to him."
Sirius looked up, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions—pain, regret, anger, and struggle. His lips trembled, as if a silent battle was raging deep within him.
Sean continued, "Harry has a lot of misunderstandings about you right now, but if you can calm down and explain things clearly, he'll understand. He needs you by his side, and as his godfather, you can't let hatred ruin everything."
Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He nodded slowly and said in a low voice, "You're right—I can't let hatred destroy all of this."
Sean gently patted Sirius on the shoulder and smiled slightly: "Let's find Peter together and uncover the truth. Justice will ultimately prevail, but not through revenge."
Sirius's fingers loosened, and he looked at Sean, nodding heavily: "I'll wait—wait to expose his true colors and let Harry know the truth."
"That's what you should be doing," Sean said with a smile.
The atmosphere gradually calmed down, and Sirius's breathing became steady. After Sean's persistent persuasion, Sirius finally calmed down and regained some of his rationality.
"Thank you, Phillips," Sirius whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and mixed emotions. "I really don't know how to repay you."
Sean chuckled softly, patted his shoulder, and as he turned to leave, his lips twitched slightly, as if he were talking to himself, his voice so low it was almost inaudible: "Repay me? You'll find out later..."