Towards the afternoon, Dumbledore finally returned to Hogwarts from the Ministry of Magic.
One glance at his solemn face showed that things hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd hoped.
He never imagined that Fudge, who had always listened politely and usually accepted his advice, would choose this moment to play tricks behind his back.
Worse still, Fudge didn't even dare to face him when he left the Ministry—a sure sign of a guilty conscience.
Back in his office, Dumbledore asked a house-elf to bring him some food. But even the honey-glazed wings he normally enjoyed felt tasteless today.
At last, he set down his knife and fork, disappointment clouding his expression.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Blake stepped in quietly.
Dumbledore raised his head, forcing a tired smile. "Do you know what happened?"
"I didn't at first," Blake admitted. "But after reading today's paper, I could guess."
Blake's eyes flicked to the half-finished meal on the table. "You don't seem to have much appetite?"
Dumbledore sighed, frustration mixing with sadness.
"Such an obvious fact, Blake… an injustice so clear. They only need to put Peter on trial, and everything would come to light! But they… even Fudge… why would they block it?"
"Why? I can't say for sure," Blake replied calmly. "But I've already asked someone to look into it."
"You asked someone?" Dumbledore looked up in mild surprise. "From where?"
"You know me, Professor," Blake answered with a small smile. "I help people, and in turn, there are always people willing to help me when I ask."
Dumbledore studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You seem quite sure of yourself."
"Peter's been hidden safely," Blake reassured him. "As long as he's alive, we still have a chance.
Actually, Professor… you also have ways you could act. But you usually refuse to use them."
Blake's words struck something deep in Dumbledore. His white beard shifted slightly as he lowered his gaze.
Blake was right. If he truly wished, Dumbledore had the wisdom and power to overshadow even Grindelwald. If he wanted, he could quietly steer the Ministry, or even hold the titles of Headmaster and Minister of Magic at once.
But that was what frightened him.
He feared the seduction of power. He feared what he might become if he embraced it fully. To avoid harming others through his ambition, he chose long ago to step back from controlling power—and to avoid even subtle influence.
And so, for all his strength and reputation, he now found himself outmaneuvered by Fudge's political games.
Blake often believed rules existed mainly to restrain good people—and Dumbledore was perhaps the best person Blake had ever met.
If only Dumbledore didn't resist power so stubbornly… Even now, if he whispered a single message to the right Ministry official, someone would surely act to help him.
He had more allies than he realized.
But Dumbledore stayed silent, unwilling to become like Grindelwald, who'd once pursued control for "the greater good."
After a moment, Dumbledore finally asked, "What do you plan to do?"
"I have a plan," Blake replied. "But I'll need your help."
"What sort of plan?" Dumbledore pressed.
"It's quite straightforward," Blake explained. "Step one: find Sirius. Step two: make sure the Wizengamot can open the trial. Step three: keep Peter and Sirius alive until then. Step four: complete the trial."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed. The steps sounded simple—except for the second one.
"I'll need your help for step two," Blake continued, almost as if he'd read Dumbledore's thoughts.
"Only you can ensure the Wizengamot convenes properly."
Dumbledore understood at once. The Ministry's internal resistance meant the court might never meet unless he personally intervened. But that would mean doing exactly what he'd sworn to avoid: directly using his influence to shape events.
Otherwise, the likely outcome was chillingly simple: Peter and Sirius handed over to Dementors, their souls consumed without trial.
"Professor," Blake said softly, "you've always kept a distance from power. But… when you and Fudge used to write letters often, you were still influencing power—just indirectly."
Dumbledore paused, struck by the truth of it.
For years, Fudge's eagerness to please had made everything easy. Back then, Dumbledore barely needed to push. Simply having Fudge's ear ensured things happened smoothly.
But now, without Fudge's support, even an injustice with undeniable proof was difficult to overturn.
It was clear: even when he tried to stay distant, power had always lingered around him.
"You're right, Blake," Dumbledore murmured. "Perhaps today is the first time in years I truly have nothing at all to do with power."
He raised his gaze and met Blake's calm blue eyes.
"Alright," Dumbledore said clearly. "I'll do it."
Yet doubt still stirred inside him—fear that by stepping back into power, he'd lose himself again.
Blake must have sensed it. "Don't worry, Professor," he said quietly. "You're not the Dumbledore of back then. I know you won't forget your purpose."
Dumbledore was silent, moved by the certainty in Blake's words.
Yes. He wasn't the same man who once dreamed alongside Grindelwald. He could wield power now to protect rather than to dominate.
A soft sound interrupted them. "Pullingleng!"
An owl flew through the office window, a letter tied to its leg.
Dumbledore reached out instinctively—but the owl flew around him, landing lightly on Blake's arm.
"Sorry, Professor," Blake said, untying the letter. "This one's for me."
He fed the owl a small dried fish. The owl gulped it down, then took off back through the window.
Dumbledore had caught a glimpse of a strange little emblem hanging from the owl's neck—but it vanished too quickly to make out.
Blake read the letter silently. Then he looked up, eyes bright. "My friend discovered what's behind this."
"Oh?" Dumbledore leaned forward.
"It turns out," Blake began, "it's tied to Gringotts."
"Gringotts?" Dumbledore repeated, surprised. "The Ministry and Gringotts are usually careful not to interfere with each other."
"Times change, Professor," Blake replied. "When goblins learn to use the wealth they hold… they become much more dangerous."
He handed the letter to Dumbledore.
As Dumbledore read, his eyes widened. "The Shafiq family… so it's them…"
The Shafiq family, once listed among the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, had declined badly over the years—almost as poor and forgotten as the Gaunts.
They should have quietly faded into history.
Yet recently, they'd reappeared in wizarding society, suddenly wealthy and influential. Clarence Shafiq, the current head, had even secured a seat on the Wizengamot.
Dumbledore remembered wondering how such a fallen family had risen again.
Now the answer lay before him: goblin support.
"With goblin money behind them," Blake said, "it wasn't hard for the Shafiqs to regain power."
"And rather than calling it support, it's more accurate to say the Shafiqs have become goblin puppets," Blake added softly.
"Goblins and wizards have always mistrusted each other," he continued. "But goblins discovered something new: instead of open rebellion, they could influence the Ministry from within."
In the past, goblins had been hoarders of treasure, like dragons of legend.
Now, they realized that spending gold—strategically—could buy them power.
"So," Dumbledore summarized, "the real force blocking us is the goblins. But why target the Blake family?"
"The goblins want money," Blake explained. "The Blake family fortune in Gringotts is enormous. If the last heir—me—disappears, that vault becomes ownerless. And by Gringotts tradition, that gold would revert to them."
"A small investment in the Shafiq family is nothing compared to that potential prize."
"And Fudge?" Dumbledore asked.
"He cares about the Ministry's dignity and public image," Blake replied. "An official acknowledgment of wrongful conviction would embarrass the Ministry deeply. Fudge didn't want that to happen under his leadership."
"Even if Fudge himself had no part in wronging Sirius originally, it would damage the Ministry's credibility now."
Dumbledore listened, then looked again at the letter.
What surprised him even more was the friend Blake had who could uncover secrets this deep.
But he chose not to pry. Everyone, he thought, deserved some secrets.
"Now that we know who's behind it," Dumbledore said, "the next step becomes clearer."
He handed the letter back to Blake. "I'll ensure the Wizengamot convenes a trial."
"And Sirius?" Dumbledore added.
"I've also asked my friends to find him," Blake replied with quiet confidence.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly, suspecting who this mysterious friend might be.
But again, he didn't ask. Blake was growing, and some mysteries should remain his own.
"Alright," Dumbledore said gravely. "I'll leave it in your hands."
He trusted Blake deeply; Blake had never failed him before.
As Blake left the office, a strange feeling sparked in his chest.
The world wasn't as plain or predictable as he'd once thought.
Goblins, vampires, ancient families, secret networks… and soon, the people he'd meet when he traveled through time.
There was so much waiting to be uncovered.
Blake felt an old, restless desire stir inside him—an urge to keep exploring, to keep pushing forward.