"Well, I certainly hope I still remember how to properly execute this particular spell," Adrian murmured to himself, his voice carrying the slight uncertainty of someone about to attempt magic he hadn't used in quite some time. "It's been a while since I've had occasion to reveal a Polyjuice transformation."
Adrian raised his wand, drawing a perfect circle in the air with fluid movements. The gesture left faint traces of silver light hanging in the air, like ethereal smoke rings. He recited an incantation in what sounded like ancient Latin.
A bright blue light suddenly erupted from the tip of his wand. The magical radiance spread outward in expanding ripples.
"Jameson's" face began to twist and distort in the most unsettling manner. His body outline shifted and wavered constantly, bones seeming to restructure themselves beneath the skin while his height and build transformed.
Finally, an entirely expected yet still shocking figure appeared before them in the corridor.
"Hello there, Sirius Black," Adrian said with a knowing smile that held no trace of surprise, though his wand remained steady and ready. "I must admit, I never imagined we would meet under quite these dramatic circumstances."
The man now revealed as Sirius Black didn't look nearly as wild and disheveled as he appeared in the newspaper photographs that had been plastered across every magical publication for months.
Though his clothes clearly didn't fit his lean body properly, his dark eyes gleamed with the sharp, predatory intelligence. His face, while skinny from malnutrition and stress, held a dignity that prison had not managed to completely strip away.
At this moment of complete exposure, he realized that his deception had been utterly shattered.
He released a long, weary sigh filled with accumulated despair and frustration. "I suppose you won't simply let me walk away from this encounter, will you?"
"I'm genuinely glad to see you still maintain some measure of sound judgment and realistic expectations," Adrian replied with dry amusement, keeping his wand steadily trained on Black's chest. "That will make this entire process considerably more civilized for all involved."
Black slowly raised both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. However, his restless eyes continued to dart around their surroundings, calculating distances, evaluating potential escape routes, and searching desperately for any advantage he might be able to exploit.
It wasn't until one of Adrian's Devil's Snare plants skillfully swept away the fallen wand from the floor with vine that the last flicker of hope in Black's eyes was completely extinguished. Without a wand, he had absolutely no realistic chance of escaping from a fully trained adult wizard, especially one who seemed to anticipate his every move.
The presence of Ray, still perched nearby and watching waiting for any sign of aggressive movement, only reinforced the hopelessness of his situation.
"Let me think carefully about what procedure demands in this situation," Adrian said with pretended pondering, tapping his chin with his free hand as if consulting some internal manual. "According to proper Ministry guidelines, I should offer you an opportunity to speak in your own defense before we proceed further. Is there anything you'd particularly like to say, Mr. Black? Any final words or requests?"
"Let me see Dumbledore," Black said in a hoarse voice.
"As you wish," Adrian nodded with surprising readiness, as if granting such a request was the most natural thing in the world. "I see no particular reason to deny that request."
In fact, Black really had no other feasible options remaining at this point in his desperate journey. Since his original plan to kill Peter Pettigrew had been thwarted, his only remaining hope was to reveal the complete truth about everything that had happened twelve years ago.
Fortunately, with Peter still alive and hiding somewhere within the castle walls, clearing his own name wouldn't be impossibly difficult—assuming anyone was willing to listen to reason rather than simply executing him on sight.
Ten minutes later, Sirius found himself in the Great Hall.
Adrian and Black sat facing each other across one of the tables, with the day's sumptuous feast. The empty dining hall echoed only with the delicate, crystalline sounds of cutlery clinking.
Since they had arrived well before the usual lunch hour, the place contained only the two of them.
Black stared in bewilderment at Adrian, who was calmly working his way through his lunch with the unhurried appreciation of someone who had all the time in the world. "Weren't you supposed to take me directly to Dumbledore?" he asked in confusion. "What exactly are we doing here instead?"
"Oh, please be patient for just a moment longer, Mr. Black," Adrian replied pleasantly, glancing up from his meal to meet Black's incredulous stare before taking a thoughtful sip of coffee. "Lunch happens to be far more important to me than most other considerations. Today's menu is particularly exceptional, and I'd hate to let such food go to waste. That raspberry pie directly in front of you, for instance—you really should try at least a small piece."
Black didn't know how to respond to such casual behavior. He was a wanted fugitive whose capture would normally result in immediate return to Azkaban or possibly even instant execution, but his captor was concerned about dessert recommendations.
He stared at the pie before him without making any move to touch it, his hands remaining folded in his lap like a penitent child. He hadn't enjoyed a proper, home-cooked meal in ages. But now, he found he had absolutely no appetite whatsoever.
"You don't seem surprised at all by my true identity," Black observed with growing puzzlement, his hoarse voice having a tone of curiosity. "Aren't you even slightly concerned that I might somehow manage to escape from this situation?"
Adrian shrugged with nonchalance, continuing to unhurriedly cut precise pieces from his steak. "First of all, you don't even possess a wand at this moment, which rather severely limits your magical options," he explained reasonably. "And secondly, even if you somehow managed to acquire one through some miraculous intervention, I'm quite confident that you simply couldn't defeat me."
Black let out a bitter laugh. He felt exactly like a piece of meat laid out on a butcher's chopping block, completely at the mercy of the man sitting across from him with such infuriating calmness. His fate was no longer in his own hands, if it ever truly had been since the night James and Lily died.
With this realization settling over him, he simply picked up his fork with resigned acceptance and began eating the food before him. If these were to be among his last moments of freedom, he might as well face them with some semblance of dignity intact.
The raspberry pie, he had to admit, was absolutely extraordinary.
After they finished their leisurely meal—Adrian savoring every bite while Black ate mechanically, Adrian finally rose from his seat and gestured toward the hall's main entrance.
"Well then, shall we proceed to keep your appointment with the headmaster?"
Adrian led Black through the corridors toward Dumbledore's office. With each step they took, Black's movements grew heavier, as if invisible weights were being added to his shoulders.
"Please try not to worry excessively, Mr. Black," Adrian said with casual conversational tone that seemed completely inappropriate to the seriousness of the situation.
"In all likelihood, you'll simply be sent back to Azkaban to serve out the remainder of your natural life sentence. There's also a small but distinct possibility of immediate execution, depending on how the Ministry chooses to handle your escape and subsequent infiltration of a school filled with children. But really, when you think about it objectively, it's no tremendously big deal, is it?"
Black remained silent for a long moment, his jaw working as if he were chewing words too bitter to actually speak aloud. He truly couldn't understand how this young man maintained such an infuriatingly leisurely and casual attitude when discussing matters of life and death.
It was as if they were discussing the weather rather than his potential execution.
"Here we are at last," Adrian announced cheerfully as they stopped before the familiar stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's private domain. The creature's ugly face seemed to leer at them with malicious amusement. "Now, what was today's password... let me think for a moment... oh yes, that's right. Fizzing Whizzbees."
The gargoyle immediately jumped aside revealing the spiraling staircase that led upward to Dumbledore's office.
Black took a deep breath and followed Adrian up.
The office door swung open automatically before they could even raise their hands to knock, as if the room itself had been anticipating their arrival. Dumbledore sat peacefully behind his desk, completely absorbed in the simple pleasure of leisurely adding sugar cubes to his afternoon coffee.
When he noticed their unexpected arrival, he couldn't help but pause in his actions. The sugar cube he had been holding dropped onto his desk with a tiny sound. His expression showed surprise.
"Look who I managed to catch," Adrian said cheerfully pushing Black forward a single step to present him like a prize won at some surreal carnival game.
Black, clearly unwilling to waste precious time on explanations or social niceties, spoke with hoarse urgency. "Professor Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew was the real traitor twelve years ago, and he's at Hogwarts right now!"
Dumbledore was stunned upon hearing these explosive words. He had never anticipated that the notorious murderer who had brought so much trouble and fear to Hogwarts would appear so suddenly in his office.
And his opening words carried such enormous implications.
Taking several seconds to process what he had just heard, Dumbledore slowly rose from his chair. His eyes were fixed on Black's haggard face, searching for any sign of deception or madness. "Please be considerably more specific about these accusations."
So, Black launched into his explanation. He described the truth of what had actually happened twelve years ago as quickly and comprehensively as possible: He had secretly transferred the role of Secret-Keeper from himself to Peter Pettigrew, rather than serving in that capacity himself as everyone in the wizarding world had been led to believe.
This decision had been meant to mislead Voldemort and his followers, creating a layer of misdirection that would protect James and Lily Potter from discovery.
But the plan had backfired. Unknown to anyone at the time, Peter had already secretly joined the Dark Lord's ranks, becoming a spy and traitor.
Dumbledore listened to this extraordinary tale with focused attention. When Black finally finished his breathless recitation, the headmaster tapped his fingers lightly against the surface of his desk.
Finally, he spoke slowly. "So, what exactly did you come to Hogwarts hoping to accomplish?"
Black's dark eyes suddenly blazed with fury.
"For revenge!" His voice trembled slightly. "I saw it in the Daily Prophet—that rat belonging to the Weasley family is actually Peter in his Animagus form! I could never mistake him. He's been hiding in plain sight this entire time!"
Dumbledore's gaze became exceptionally sharp and penetrating. "Do you intend to kill Peter Pettigrew?"
Black nodded without the slightest hesitation with grim determination. "What possible reason does that treacherous coward have to continue living in this world? He murdered James and Lily! He deserves to die!"
The air in the office seemed to freeze into stillness at these words. No matter what the circumstances or justifications might be, "death" was always a topic of tremendous seriousness and moral complexity.
Dumbledore walked around his desk to stand directly before Black, looking calmly and steadily into his eyes.
"I don't believe that revenge through murder is a wise or effective way to handle this situation, Sirius," He said gently but firmly. "If Peter dies now, before we can properly interrogate him and gather evidence, you'll have no way to prove that what you're telling us is actually true. His death would only create more questions, not provide the answers we desperately need."
"I don't care!" Black suddenly raised his head.
Adrian listened silently from the side.
From a purely rational and strategic perspective, Black's infiltration of Hogwarts with the sole intention of committing murder was definitely not the most intelligent or effective approach to resolving this complex situation.
But Adrian also understood, that human beings simply couldn't remain coldly rational forever, especially when faced with betrayal of such magnitude. The desire for revenge, for personal satisfaction and closure, was one of the most important and powerful human drives.
In Black's position, having suffered so greatly for crimes he hadn't committed and the thought of that traitor behind his friends and his suffering being alive, most people would probably feel exactly the same need for violent retribution.
"There's another question that needs to be addressed," Dumbledore continued. "Tell me honestly, Sirius—why didn't you attempt to clarify any of this twelve years ago, immediately after your arrest?"
"Because no one gave me even the slightest chance for a proper trial!" Black replied with a bitter smile.
"The Ministry was in complete chaos after Voldemort's defeat, and everyone wanted a quick resolution, a convenient scapegoat to blame for all the horror and death. Peter had already disappeared thought to be dead by me and all by the time the Aurors arrived at the scene.
What evidence could I possibly have used to prove my innocence? My word against the obvious facts? Even Veritaserum wouldn't have helped—I was the Secret-Keeper as far as anyone knew, and I had been at the scene of the crime."
He paused, his entire body beginning to tremble as darker memories surfaced like poison bubbling up from a deep well.
"Besides, under the constant influence of those Dementors, you simply can't maintain your sanity or clear thought for very long. I spent the first several years of my imprisonment barely able to remember my own name, let alone think of complex legal arguments or escape plans."
Dumbledore didn't respond immediately, but his expression grew troubled and contemplative as he processed these explanations.
Black's account was somewhat difficult to verify and perhaps slightly far-fetched in places, but it wasn't entirely unreasonable or impossible given the chaotic circumstances that had followed Voldemort's initial defeat.
More importantly, Dumbledore found himself remembering the subtle but troubling anomaly he had begun to sense about Peter Pettigrew during their Christmas visit.
The nervous behavior, the obvious fear, the desperate desire to flee the country—all of it suddenly took on a very different and much more sinister meaning in light of Black's accusations.
Perhaps the truth really was exactly as Black had described it, and one of the wizarding world's most infamous criminals was actually innocent of the crimes that had sent him to living hell.
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