The small bedroom fell into silence. Whether the true Secret Keeper had been Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew, it was a tragic story either way.
To be betrayed by someone you trusted—there was hardly a pain worse than that.
When Glover Cecil had told Eda this kind of story, it had been to make her remember this lesson: never place trust in anyone, because trust is an extremely extravagant thing.
Sitting at the head of the bed, Black said nothing. His hands still tormented his own hair, and the bit of color that had just returned to his face was now filled with pain.
Black knew he was innocent, but he had never tried to defend himself, nor had he ever planned to escape from Azkaban. He believed he should bear responsibility for James and Lily's deaths—he thought that he himself was the cause of all this misfortune.
Macbeth's overwhelming guilt after Duncan's murder, despite not always wielding the knife himself in every sense... Though not entirely fitting, the regret and self-blame in his heart were the same.
In truth, Black's choice could not be called unwise. He placed himself in the open to draw attention, while the real Secret Keeper, Peter, hid in the shadows, free from the threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
This both protected Peter and made the Potters' hiding place safer. But instead of deceiving Voldemort, Sirius became the city of Troy, Voldemort became the Greeks, and Peter was the Trojan Horse
Unfortunately, Black's little skiff ran into the stormy Voldemort. What was meant to be a deception turned into offering oneself up instead. Voldemort anticipated Black's anticipation, and Peter Pettigrew was not someone worthy of trust.
Fred and George, sitting by the door, also said nothing. Their usual mischief was gone. The two brothers lowered their heads in thought, thinking about Black and James Potter's past, and about their own future with Eda.
The past, if not forgotten, can guide the future. Hearing Black personally recount the entire sequence of events had a profound impact on the twins.
Fred and George had always believed they were fully prepared to face the cruelty of the adult world, to stand by Eda's side and witness more beautiful sights together.
But when Black tore open his blood-soaked wounds, the twins realized how naive their thoughts had been. This world was far more cruel than they had ever imagined.
Beneath Fred and George's sunny exteriors were two interesting souls, and hidden deep within those souls was a rare clarity. They always brought laughter to those around them, yet those who are clear-minded are often the ones who suffer.
The midday sunlight warmed the room. Eda returned to the window, resting her hands against her smooth forehead as she gazed into the distance in quiet focus. Under the light, her white shirt seemed almost dazzling.
It should have been an age of carefree jokes, an age when even the spring breeze would be enchanted by one's laughter and gestures. Yet Eda had already witnessed the deep darkness of this world.
The tangled love and hatred from twelve years ago might sound heartbreaking to others, but to Eda it was nothing remarkable. She neither spoke words of comfort to Black nor immediately believed his side of the story.
It wasn't that Eda was cold-hearted, but that she had seen more than most. Today, her curiosity had been satisfied—what she wanted to know and to verify had, for the most part, been confirmed by Black.
As for the questions that remained unanswered, the doubts she had not voiced—there was no need to ask, no need to say them aloud. Many things were better left known only to oneself, without being laid bare.
If Eda were to ask Dumbledore whether he trusted Sirius, what answer would she receive? Don't forget, Sirius's surname was Black. His cousins were Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy.
If Eda were to ask Sirius why he hadn't told Dumbledore about changing the Secret Keeper, what answer would she receive?
If Eda were to ask Sirius why he hadn't made another close friend, Lupin, the Secret Keeper, what answer would she receive? Don't forget, Professor Lupin was a werewolf. In the darkest of times, between Peter and Remus, who was truly worthy of trust? The answer had already been given.
Not asking, not speaking—that was Eda's mercy, a somewhat cruel kind of mercy.
In this matter, if Eda had to choose someone worthy of sympathy, she would choose Remus Lupin—the man who had lost everything overnight—the pitiful werewolf.
The long silence was finally broken. Black stopped tormenting his hair and said, "I know you don't believe me. Who would believe a fugitive? But I really need your help. No matter what, Peter cannot be allowed to stay by Harry's side. I can't let him hand Harry over to his master the way he betrayed James!"
In the lightless depths of Azkaban, his memories of James and his feelings for Harry were what kept Black sane—and the main reason he managed to escape.
A godfather, in the Catholic tradition, is someone who gives a child a Christian name at baptism and takes responsibility for their religious upbringing. Black was Harry's godfather—his closest person in this world.
A father's love is like a mountain, though sometimes that mountain may collapse or crumble.
"I'm begging you, Miss Twist," Black pleaded, casting aside all pride. "Please!"
Black had already experienced how formidable this house was. The moment he approached the doors or windows, blazing blue flames would rise and block his path.
Crookshanks had once brought over a rat. The instant it touched the doorway, it was consumed by the flames, leaving not even ashes behind.
With others holding the knife and himself the meat on the chopping block, Black knew everything depended on the other party's whim. If he wanted to capture Peter, he could only allow himself to be at their mercy. From the day he was injured, today's situation had been inevitable.
Whether Eda herself believed Black or not was actually unimportant, because the long-absent system had already given a reference answer:
[Ding! Identify the true Secret Keeper. Find the one who truly betrayed the Potters.]
The prime suspect, Black, had already been wounded by Eda and was now trapped in the room. Even if he weren't confined, in his current state—barely able to lift or carry anything—he wouldn't be able to escape Eda's grasp anyway.
It could practically be said that Eda had already captured Black—but! The system mission had not been completed, and what that implied needed no further explanation. Although Black's "one-sided account" sounded absurd, what he said was indeed true.
"I'm sorry, but I don't trust you," Eda said.
The moment those words left her mouth, Black's expression turned grim. Injured as he was, facing three opponents alone, it would be difficult for him to take any one of them hostage, and his chances of escape were slim. But Eda's next words rekindled his hope.
Eda said, "I don't trust you, but I think someone probably does. Right, Professor?"
Sirius Black first looked at Eda in surprise, then turned toward the door. The twins had already stepped aside. Under Black's disbelieving gaze, the white-bearded elder Dumbledore—so otherworldly he only lacked a halo on his head—walked into the room.
Wait a second—where was the fire? The crackling blue flames that had been soaring at the doorway—where did they go?
Dumbledore's appearance alone was shocking enough, but the completely unresponsive blue flames left Black utterly stunned. So the fire only targeted him?
Of course not. Eda wouldn't dare to manipulate dark magic in front of Dumbledore—that would just be asking for trouble. So the moment she entered the room, she had already withdrawn the flame barrier. Since Black hadn't gotten out of bed, he hadn't noticed.
"What an unexpected reunion, isn't it, Sirius?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly. He had always harbored doubts about what happened twelve years ago, yet he had never found any evidence to confirm them. What he had just heard outside the room filled in all the gaps in his assumptions.
"Professor… you believe me?" Black's voice trembled with emotion, even quivering. Anyone unaware of his past might think he hadn't come from Azkaban in the North Sea, but from digging potatoes in the frozen wastes of Siberia.
"Yes, I believe you." Dumbledore's smile was as warm as sunlight. "And I believe I'm not the only one who trusts you, am I right?"
Eda tilted her head and rolled her eyes. She really hated this kind of layered repetition. After today, she was definitely going to add a line to the sign at the entrance of her little house: No nesting dolls allowed!
As his words fell, the weathered Remus Lupin appeared at the doorway. Looking at Black, he said calmly, "Long time no see."
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