London at night was filled with dazzling lights, with traffic flowing endlessly through the streets and crowds bustling everywhere.. it was lively and vibrant.
Yet near the busy and prosperous city center, there was a desolate, deserted little street. There were only a few shabby-looking offices, a small pub, and an overflowing dumpster.
On this bleak street, there were only two pedestrians: an old man with a white beard, and a blonde girl holding a metal cage in her hand. Inside the cage was a lifeless rat.
This pair was none other than Dumbledore and Eda, who had just left the Twilight Shack. The two of them had come here for a case from twelve years ago.
Eda looked around. Compared to the French Ministry of Magic built at Fürstenberg Square, the entrance to the British Ministry of Magic was far too inconspicuous—just as unremarkable as the Leaky Cauldron.
"We're here," Dumbledore said, pointing at a dilapidated red telephone booth. "This is the entrance to the Ministry of Magic."
That red telephone booth was in terrible condition—several panes of glass were missing, and behind it was a wall smeared with all sorts of marks. This entrance was simply awful, completely outclassed.
"Professor, why don't we just go in directly?" Eda said. "This telephone booth really lowers the Ministry's image."
"Don't you think life should have different experiences?" Dumbledore asked in return. "The visitor entrance to the Ministry is one such unique experience." As he spoke, Dumbledore stepped inside first and beckoned Eda to follow.
Left with no choice, Eda squeezed in after him. Fortunately, both of them were slim, so it didn't feel too cramped.
Inside the booth, of course, was a telephone. It hung crookedly from the wall, as if someone who liked vandalizing public property had once tried to yank it off.
Dumbledore picked up the receiver and dialed 62442. On a later mobile phone keypad, those numbers would spell out the word "magic."
As the dial spun back into place with a whirring sound, a cold female voice rang out inside the telephone booth. It didn't come from the receiver—it was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman were standing right beside them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and your business."
"Albus Dumbledore, Esmeralda Twist, here to see the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge," Dumbledore said.
"Thank you," the cold voice replied. "Visitors, please take the badges and pin them to the front of your clothing."
Ding, clatter—two square silver badges slid out from the coin return slot. Dumbledore picked them up and handed one to Eda.
"Visitors to the Ministry must undergo inspection at the security desk and register their wands. The security desk is located at the end of the Atrium."
The floor of the telephone booth suddenly began to tremble as they slowly descended underground, accompanied only by a monotonous, grating sound. After a while, a thin streak of golden light appeared, gradually widening.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," the woman's voice said. The booth door swung open abruptly, and Eda stepped out first.
It was night, so there weren't many people in the magnificent golden hall, making it feel somewhat empty. Unlike the starry ceiling of the French Ministry of Magic, the British Ministry's ceiling was peacock blue, inlaid with glittering golden symbols.
Walking across the polished dark wooden floor, Eda followed Dumbledore through the Atrium, passing the fountain and the highly ironic solid gold statues, heading straight for the lifts.
Dumbledore entering the Ministry in such an ordinary way was merely him experiencing life—it didn't mean he was actually going to submit to wand inspection. After all, the headmaster hadn't even bothered to put on his badge.
Near the lifts, some wizards working late or on duty recognized Dumbledore and greeted him one after another, and he responded to each of them in turn.
After exchanging greetings, Dumbledore led Eda into one of the lifts; no one else followed them in.
The metal grille clanged shut, and the lift began to rise slowly, chains rattling. The cold female voice from the telephone booth sounded again.
Only when they reached Level One did Dumbledore lead Eda out. This was where the Minister's office and the Department of Magical Maintenance were located. Thick carpets covered the floor, and the walls were lined with cold, black tiles, giving the place a solemn and austere atmosphere.
Each wooden door on this level had a small plaque with a name and title. Eda even spotted a familiar one: Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.
They stopped in front of the largest door—the Minister's office. Without knocking, and without Dumbledore saying a word, the door opened on its own, and Fudge's voice came from inside.
"Ah, Albus, you said you were coming—have you brought good news?" Fudge called out loudly. "Let me guess, is it news about Black, or have you caught him?"
Inside the spacious and luxurious office, besides Fudge, there was another person present—Umbridge, still dressed in that nauseating shade of girlish pink, holding a stack of parchment in her arms.
"Something like that, Cornelius. I've brought a very fine gift," Dumbledore said.
Fudge stood behind a large desk, welcoming Dumbledore and Eda to sit down. His expression was warm, as if he wasn't displeased at all about what had happened in Hogsmeade earlier, as though there had never been any rift between him and Dumbledore.
Umbridge hurried over to prepare drinks for the two visitors, then stood obsequiously behind Fudge like a pink toad. Whenever Fudge glanced at her, she put on a sickeningly sycophantic smile.
"That's wonderful. I'm sure your gift will be very uplifting," Fudge said. "You know, because of Black, the public has been very worried. I was just discussing this with Dolores."
Discussing what? What could they possibly be discussing—sending more Dementors?
Waiting for Dementors to catch Sirius would be less practical than waiting for Sirius to turn himself in.
Eda silently complained to herself, subtly leaning back to keep as much distance from Umbridge as possible.
Eda, who had never judged people by their appearance, learned how to do so after meeting Umbridge.
"I came here precisely because of this matter, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "We've caught the one who betrayed the Potters—the one who blew up half a street."
"Where is he? Where is Black?" Fudge asked excitedly. The Black incident had severely damaged the Minister's public image, and the wizarding world was extremely dissatisfied with the Ministry's performance. Some had even begun calling for Fudge to step down.
Unlike the highly pressured and agitated Fudge, Dumbledore spoke unhurriedly. "No, Cornelius. The criminal is not Sirius Black. The real culprit is someone else…"
"You're saying Black was wrongly accused?" Fudge rudely waved his hand, interrupting Dumbledore. "Impossible! How could that be! Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper—only he had the chance to betray them! Albus, you're joking, right?"
Fudge grew even more agitated, as if Dumbledore were telling some absurd fantasy. Behind him, Umbridge looked full of disdain, clearly dismissing Dumbledore's claims, though she still let out a series of giggles to echo the Minister.
Eda half-expected that if Umbridge kept laughing like that, she might lay an egg.
"This is no joke, and April Fool's Day is still several days away," Dumbledore said. "Sirius Black is indeed innocent. The one who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort was Peter—Peter Pettigrew."
Fudge burst into even louder laughter, as if he had just heard the funniest joke of his life.
After laughing for quite a while, he finally said, "Albus, we all know that boy Peter is already dead. Poor child—only a finger was left of him. To honor his bravery, he was even awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class!"
"I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is the truth. I saw Peter today," Dumbledore said.
Then the headmaster recounted how the Potters' Secret-Keeper had been arranged, how Peter had framed Sirius, and how Peter had been captured today.
After hearing all this, Fudge behaved even more foolishly than Ron. He simply didn't believe what Dumbledore said—or rather, deep down, he refused to believe it.
To believe Dumbledore's account, to believe that Sirius Black was innocent, would mean that the Ministry of Magic was wrong. Imprisoning an innocent man in the terrifying Azkaban for twelve years—this was a mistake the Ministry did not want to bear.
"This is impossible, absolutely impossible," Fudge said slowly. "If Black was innocent, why didn't he say so when he was captured? Why didn't he protest his innocence over these twelve years? This cannot be true!"
Fudge's reaction was also within Dumbledore's expectations. Since he had come to see Fudge, Dumbledore had naturally made full preparations. The headmaster glanced at Eda, signaling that it was her turn to perform—time for the old man to rest for a moment.
Bringing her along was precisely for this purpose, and Eda understood Dumbledore's meaning perfectly. So without hesitation, she placed the cage in her hand onto the large desk.
Looking at the metal cage on the desk and the lifeless rat inside, both Fudge and Umbridge frowned. When they saw Eda take out her wand, Umbridge exaggeratedly stepped in front of Fudge, pulling out her own short wand as well.
Tch! A sycophant who only flatters those above her—Fudge's lapdog.
Eda showed nothing but disdain for Umbridge's behavior. She curled her lip and ignored the pink toad acting as if facing a great enemy, casually tapping the cage with her wand. The metal cage vanished instantly.
Then Eda pointed her wand at the rat on the desk. A blue light lit up at the tip of her yew wand, and Peter Pettigrew appeared—"miraculously"—on the Minister's desk.
The appearance of that balding, wretched middle-aged man made Minister Fudge collapse back into his chair. He muttered blankly, "Impossible… how could this be… how could it be like this…"
Peter did not try to frame his old friend Sirius again. He lay there on the desk, dazed and silent.
"Cornelius, now that you've seen him, you should believe that Sirius is innocent, shouldn't you?" Dumbledore said. "We have many ways to verify the truth—Legilimency, Veritaserum, and so on."
And Eda was truly cooperating with Dumbledore. She took out another small bottle from her pocket. The colorless liquid inside was Veritaserum—just two or three drops would make a person reveal everything they knew.
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