Blake glanced at the moving photograph of Sirius on the front page of the Daily Prophet, the picture showing Sirius shouting silently from behind the bars.
Then he placed the newspaper gently on the table.
"I can only say this whole thing feels strange."
The evidence to clear Sirius was overwhelming, and Dumbledore himself had gone to the Ministry to present it. Given Fudge's long history of deferring to Dumbledore's judgment, it should have been straightforward: cancel the warrant, clear Sirius's name publicly, and bring Peter back for trial.
Yet, puzzlingly, the Ministry had done nothing of the sort.
Instead, it almost seemed as though they were more desperate than ever to see Sirius dead.
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but Blake raised his hand lightly.
"It's better not to talk about this here."
By now, the Great Hall was filling with more and more students coming for lunch. Too many ears; not the place to discuss something so delicate.
Blake picked up his honey water, drained it in one gulp, tucked the newspaper under his arm, and rose. Cassandra followed at his side.
As for Hannah… she had heard a couple of fragments of their conversation. But she wasn't too worried.
In her heart, no matter what trouble Blake faced, she trusted he could handle it. Better to focus on finishing lunch than to worry needlessly.
Outside, Cassandra lowered her voice. "What do we do now?"
"Of course," Blake said calmly, "we find Sirius before the Ministry does."
"But… we don't know where he is," Cassandra pointed out, spreading her hands helplessly.
"I've got a plan," Blake replied, glancing at the Daily Prophet in his hand. "But first, we need to know if Professor Dumbledore is back."
"It shouldn't have taken long," he mused aloud. "If everything went well, Dumbledore should have returned last night. But if he's still stuck at the Ministry until now… then this is more complicated."
Blake touched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe there's no grand conspiracy. Maybe someone just wants Sirius dead—to close this case forever, make it impossible to overturn."
And who would benefit most from that? Someone inside the Ministry, or perhaps Fudge himself.
In Blake's mind, the high officials of the Ministry were cunning and deeply entrenched. Even Fudge couldn't completely control them yet.
That explained why Fudge clung so closely to Dumbledore's reputation. Each time a difficult decision arose, he'd seek Dumbledore's blessing.
It wasn't that Fudge was incompetent. Anyone who could become Minister of Magic couldn't be a fool.
Blake believed Fudge was still insecure in his position. Backing from a figure like Dumbledore, who seemed above politics, was invaluable.
Outwardly, it looked as if every decision had been made through consultation between Fudge and Dumbledore. Even those who grumbled about Fudge didn't dare oppose him too strongly for fear of angering Dumbledore.
That uneasy alliance had kept Fudge steady for years. Maybe, once Fudge finally secured his power and removed troublesome rivals, he would cast aside the "crutch" of Dumbledore.
But for now, Fudge shouldn't have had enough power to break away. Which made the news in the Daily Prophet even more intriguing.
Blake's thoughts were interrupted as he climbed the stairs toward the headmaster's office. At that moment, he spotted Professor McGonagall coming down.
"Good morning, Professor," Blake greeted politely.
"Good day, Blake," McGonagall corrected, her tone precise. "But it's already noon."
Blake chuckled softly. "Alright, good day. Professor, did you just come from the headmaster's office?"
"Yes," she sighed. "Albus went to the Ministry yesterday and hasn't returned. No one from the Ministry came last night to take Peter away, and then there's what the paper said today…"
Her worried expression made the situation painfully clear.
"Don't worry, Professor McGonagall," Blake said reassuringly. "I believe Professor Dumbledore will sort everything out."
"I hope so…" McGonagall muttered. "But I've sent two owls already, and it's been hours with no reply."
Blake's eyes narrowed. That confirmed it: Fudge had likely turned his back on Dumbledore. If Fudge had chosen to abandon his old ally, then blocking Hogwarts' letters would be an obvious step.
Dumbledore was probably still caught up in some carefully arranged "urgent business"—officially important, but designed to waste his time.
"Maybe your letters were delayed, or the owls couldn't find Professor Dumbledore mid-travel," Blake suggested softly. "It's worth trying again."
He extended his arm. "Fawkes!"
A flash of red flame, and the phoenix appeared, perching gently on Blake's forearm and brushing its head against his cheek affectionately.
Blake didn't call his own phoenix; most of his magical creatures were stored in Poké Balls to strengthen their bloodlines, including the Ice Phoenix Young Girl.
So Fawkes would deliver this message instead.
Professor McGonagall quickly pulled out a piece of parchment, but before she could look for a quill, Blake handed her a pen.
A moment later, she folded the letter and gave it to Fawkes.
"Fawkes, make sure this gets directly into Professor Dumbledore's hands. Not just anywhere," Blake whispered into the phoenix's ear.
Though he spoke softly, McGonagall caught every word.
She looked at Blake, puzzled. "Your tone… do you suspect someone is intercepting my letters to Albus?"
"Professor," Blake said gravely, "it might be better to say every letter from Hogwarts is being read—yours, and even the letters Dumbledore sent to Fudge."
"But… why would they do that?" McGonagall asked, genuinely bewildered.
Instead of answering, Blake countered, "When you sent your first letter, did you mention Peter?"
"No," McGonagall replied. "That letter, sent last night, just asked when Albus would return. I didn't mention Peter."
"And the second letter?" Blake pressed.
"That was about an hour ago," she said. "In that one, I did mention Peter."
Blake's expression darkened. "Then, Professor, I suspect that the people from the Ministry will be arriving very soon to collect Peter."
"Which they should have done earlier," McGonagall pointed out. "The sooner they take him back and question him, the sooner the truth comes out."
"No, Professor," Blake said urgently. "Please—do not hand Peter over. At least not to this group."
"Why?" McGonagall asked, taken aback.
"Because your first letter, which was harmless, never prompted a response," Blake explained. "But after the second letter, where you mentioned Peter, someone moved."
"Someone inside the Ministry doesn't want Sirius cleared. They want Peter out of Hogwarts—not for justice, but to silence him."
McGonagall frowned, piecing it together. "But… wait…"
"Professor, think," Blake insisted. "Last night, Dumbledore went to the Ministry and met Fudge. Fudge must know Peter's here. Why didn't anyone come then?"
"And why did the Daily Prophet increase Sirius's bounty instead?"
McGonagall's lips tightened. "Yes… that is suspicious."
"In my view," Blake continued, "Fudge spent the night negotiating. He likely compromised with certain figures, but didn't reveal that Peter is here."
"Your letter, though, told them exactly what they needed to know."
Understanding dawned on McGonagall's face. "You think…?"
"I think people are coming, Professor," Blake said gravely. "And if they take Peter, it won't be for a fair trial. If he dies, Sirius's last hope dies too."
McGonagall hesitated, but finally nodded. "You may be right. If you're wrong, the worst outcome is that Peter isn't delivered today—but we can always 'find' him again."
"But if you're right… then we must act."
Without another word, she turned and hurried away to warn Snape and hide Peter safely.
Watching her go, Cassandra turned to Blake, worry in her eyes. "Is it really that serious?"
"It wouldn't have been, originally," Blake admitted, spreading his hands. "But then something unexpected happened…"
Blake's mind had landed on a terrifying possibility.
Maybe Fudge's sudden boldness came from finding a new supporter—one even more useful than Dumbledore.
Someone whose reputation could terrify the stubborn officials who always challenged Fudge.
Only one person at the Ministry fit that description: Grindelwald.
"Yes, Grindelwald," Blake whispered to Cassandra. "The same Grindelwald who, after donating heavily, became the Ministry's 'honorary advisor'."
Dumbledore was powerful and respected—but principled. Fudge couldn't do whatever he wanted under Dumbledore's watch.
But Grindelwald? His dark past gave him an aura of fear. And unlike Dumbledore, he had fewer scruples.
With Grindelwald's backing, Fudge could do things that were impossible before. Even the most rebellious Ministry officials wouldn't dare cross him.
Blake's eyes darkened further. "Fudge must have realized that supporting Grindelwald was easier—and more profitable—than clinging to Dumbledore."
Grindelwald himself had reason to accept. After all, he and Dumbledore had once been bitter rivals; Dumbledore had even imprisoned him for decades.
By betraying Dumbledore, Fudge offered Grindelwald a political gift.
If they worked together, Grindelwald could influence the Ministry through Fudge—and Fudge could finally act without fear of Dumbledore's disapproval.
In Blake's mind, it all traced back to one event: Grindelwald's release.
And who had helped free Grindelwald? Blake himself.
Blake touched his chin, feeling it redden slightly from embarrassment.
"In the end," he murmured, "I started this chain reaction…"
Cause and effect. One decision had shifted the whole balance of power.
Blake thought ahead, remembering the time travel he'd be doing soon.
If changing a single choice now could ripple into huge consequences… how careful would he have to be when he finally went back in time?
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