After learning that Professor Lupin was a werewolf, Eda had already formed this suspicion, but she had never been able to confirm it. Today, Black's mention of Scabbers in the family photo, along with everything he said afterward, confirmed Eda's earlier guess.
Black admitted that he was an unregistered Animagus, and that Peter Pettigrew and James Potter were as well.
It was precisely because Black was an Animagus that he had been able to escape from Azkaban. Dementors are not sensitive to the emotions of animals; a transformed Animagus can confuse them, making it difficult for them to distinguish.
Life in Azkaban had left Black extremely thin. In his transformed state, he could easily slip out of the prison without being noticed by the Dementors. After escaping and evading the guards, Black swam all the way back to Britain from the North Sea.
Azkaban was built in the coldest waters of the North Sea, far from the mainland. The prison was originally constructed in the 15th century as the private castle of the dark wizard Ekrizdis. This dark wizard delighted in luring people to the island, then torturing and killing them for amusement.
After Ekrizdis died, the concealment charms on the island and the fortress failed, and wizards discovered the island's existence. By then, the place was infested with Dementors—terrifying creatures that fed on the happiness of anyone who came near.
Fearing that the Dementors on the island might attack Britain, and also afraid of provoking their retaliation, wizards did not destroy the cursed castle. The authorities chose to ignore the island, allowing the Dementors to continue living there, and Azkaban was abandoned.
It wasn't until the early 18th century, when the then Minister for Magic wanted to establish a wizarding prison, that Azkaban returned to public attention and became the well-known prison it is today. The Dementors, in turn, became employees of the Ministry of Magic and have guarded the place for over two hundred years.
In all that time, Black is the only known person to have successfully escaped from Azkaban.
Setting aside how freezing the waters were, that kind of determination alone was worthy of admiration—let alone the fact that he had managed to remain sane under the close watch of Dementors for twelve years.
Watching the expressions on Fred and George's faces, Black sighed helplessly and admitted, "Yes, that's right. I dog-paddled all the way back from the North Sea. Most of the time I stayed hidden in the Forbidden Forest or caves near the school. Halloween night was my first attempt to enter the common room."
"You broke into the common room to catch Ron's pet rat, Scabbers," Fred said, "because you believe that rat is Peter Pettigrew!"
"I really find it hard to accept that what you're saying is true," George added. "In everyone's understanding, Peter Pettigrew has been dead for twelve years—and killed by you, no less!"
The twins still found it difficult to accept Black's explanation. It was simply too unbelievable. Someone who had been dead for twelve years—only to suddenly be revealed as alive, having disguised himself as a rat and lived in your home for all that time—no one could accept that in such a short time.
"I know it's hard to accept, but it's the truth. And I'm the only one who still knows it, so I have to do something!" Black knew his words were hard to believe, and the twins' reaction was exactly what he had expected.
Sirius Black turned to look at the silent Eda. He knew this girl was his last hope. Only with her help would he have any chance of catching Peter Pettigrew.
The more Eda remained silent, the more anxious Black became. Every step she took felt like it was stepping on his heart. The sound of her boots against the floor only made him more agitated.
"My dear little lady, can you stop pacing?" Black almost wished he could tie her feet down. He urged, "Whether I live or die, just give me a straight answer! Or is every Gryffindor these days as slow and indecisive as you?"
Although Black hadn't explicitly said what had happened twelve years ago, the fact that someone believed to be dead had suddenly "come back to life" was enough to suggest many things.
Magic covered many fields, but there was no such thing as magic that could truly bring the dead back to life. At most, there were ways to extend life, or like Nicolas Flamel, achieve immortality with the Philosopher's Stone. True resurrection—even the legendary Resurrection Stone couldn't accomplish that.
Since there was no such thing as "coming back from the dead," it meant that Peter hadn't died back then. But why would he fake his death? Even if he had been no match for Black and chose to fake his death to escape, then after Voldemort fell and Black was imprisoned, why would he continue to hide?
Eda finally stopped pacing. Black was right here, cooperating, and all her questions could be answered.
Eda said, "As far as I know, you were the Secret-Keeper of the Potters' hiding place at the time. After what happened to them, everyone believed you betrayed them. Pettigrew was said to have tried to avenge them, only to be killed by you. But now it seems that's not what really happened, is it?"
Silence.
The same Black who had just been eager to know Eda's stance now fell silent. But Eda was in no hurry—she had plenty of time to wait him out. If he didn't speak, she wouldn't press him. This was the final stage of wearing him down.
Black couldn't leave this room. And being unable to leave meant he could do nothing. Inside, he was more tormented than anyone.
That was also why he cooperated with Eda's questioning—he knew that if he couldn't earn her trust, the only thing awaiting him was the Dementor's Kiss.
"You really are the smartest witch in the school," Black said hoarsely, his voice filled with deep self-reproach. "Everyone thought I was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. All the attention was on me—and that was exactly what I wanted."
The more Black spoke, the more painful it became. He raised the cup and drained it in one gulp, as if trying to drown his sorrows.
The way he downed it looked rather dashing, and his expression was full of melancholy—but he seemed to have forgotten that what was in the cup wasn't alcohol at all, just milk.
Fortunately, Black didn't let out a childish milk burp, and the serious, sorrowful atmosphere in the room wasn't ruined.
"This is the decision I regret most in my life. My own cleverness killed my best friend!" Black said painfully. "At the very last moment, I persuaded James and Lily to let Peter replace me as the Secret-Keeper. I thought it was the safest option—the best protection for them."
"Why?" Fred and George shouted in unison, even standing up instinctively in their shock.
Expressions of astonishment and confusion appeared on the twins' faces at the same time. They simply couldn't understand Black's reasoning. First he said Peter wasn't dead, and now he was saying Peter was the Secret-Keeper—Black's story was becoming more and more outrageous. Even Lockhart's novels weren't this absurd.
Black lowered his head, falling into painful memories. The twins could only turn to the quick-witted Eda, hoping she could offer some insight so their brains could catch up.
"Whether it was Dumbledore or Voldemort, they would naturally assume that Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper," Eda explained. "No one would pay attention to an insignificant Peter. Voldemort and the Death Eaters would focus all their efforts on Black, which would make Peter, as the real Secret-Keeper, safe."
"Yes! That's exactly what I thought back then!" Black shouted hysterically. "Even if I were captured by the Death Eaters, they wouldn't get any information about James from me. He and Lily would be safe!"
Black clutched his hair tightly, looking almost mad. For the past twelve years, he had been tormented by this guilt. Countless times he had asked himself: if he hadn't tried to be clever, if he hadn't made that unnecessary move, would James and Lily still be alive?
But there are no "ifs" in this world.
It was precisely because the Secret-Keeper had been changed to Peter Pettigrew that the Potters were betrayed. It was precisely because of that change that Voldemort's Killing Curse rebounded. And it was precisely because of that change that the dark clouds hanging over Britain finally dispersed.
This was probably also why Peter Pettigrew had faked his death and refused to show himself. He feared that his friend Black would reveal the truth, and he also feared that the remaining Death Eaters would blame him for Voldemort's downfall.
To end up despised by both sides after betraying everyone—Peter Pettigrew was truly something else.
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