Chapter 235. Sirius Black and the Beech Tree
According to Peeves's testimony, there was no doubt that the one who attacked the Fat Lady was Sirius Black himself.
Dumbledore immediately ordered the professors to conduct a thorough search of the castle.
As for the students of the four Houses, they were temporarily gathered in the Great Hall.
It looked like they would be spending the night there.
Naturally, the students had no objections. Compared with possibly running into a vicious fugitive, sleeping on the cold floor was clearly the better choice.
What's more, the sleeping bags Dumbledore conjured were fluffy and soft, warm as sunlight.
Wesson and Lupin were assigned to the same team, responsible for searching the main tower.
They were to go through every nook and cranny, every room there.
However, there was a small incident during the process.
Snape strongly requested to be in the same group as Wesson and Lupin, but Dumbledore ultimately refused, stationing him in the Great Hall instead.
This made Wesson wonder—what on earth was Snape up to?
The Fat Lady was soon found, hiding inside the map of Argyllshire on the third floor.
"That was Black!" the Fat Lady shrieked to Professor McGonagall, who had found her. "I saw him. He was terrifying! I wouldn't tell him the password, and he pulled out his wand…"
Professor McGonagall spent quite a while soothing the Fat Lady before she calmed down.
Still, they learned one thing.
Black had a wand in his hand!
It bears remembering that a wizard with a wand and one without are two very different matters.
At this point, Black's level of danger shot straight up.
While all Hogwarts plunged into chaos,
the culprit behind it all, Sirius Black, was sprinting through the Forbidden Forest.
He had to get somewhere no one could find him!
Otherwise, Dumbledore would be able to track him down soon enough.
Having worked with Dumbledore for so long, he knew full well what Dumbledore was capable of.
Before he personally ended that traitor, he could not get caught!
Black ran while thinking back on what had just happened.
He couldn't help feeling annoyed.
The Fat Lady had refused to let him in no matter what; at last, he'd lost his temper and lashed out.
However, even lashing out couldn't change the fact that he couldn't get into the Gryffindor common room.
With the Fat Lady gone, who else could open the door for him?
He couldn't very well blast the door open.
With that thought, Black sighed.
He realised this might have been his closest brush with success.
Because from here on, the castle's defences would only grow tighter.
The next time he tried to get in, it certainly wouldn't be as easy as this.
He didn't know how far he had run. After making sure it was safe, Black leaned against a large tree to catch his breath.
Lately, he had been hiding in the Forbidden Forest. There was food and water here, and plenty of cover—an ideal natural hiding place.
That said, he did occasionally run into trouble—Acromantulas or trolls, for instance.
Ah, once he had even run into a centaur. Fortunately, he had been in the form of a black dog at the time.
Centaurs were relatively friendly toward creatures like dogs; they had even prepared him some food.
Centaurs were vegetarians.
Though it was only wild fruit and greens, it was better than nothing.
Now and then, when he really couldn't find food, he would pop by the centaurs' tribe.
Mm… he really was pitiful.
Black shook his head, and the anger in his eyes began to kindle again.
Just a little longer… as soon as he caught Peter, this kind of life would be over.
At that moment, Black's stomach growled.
He let out a long sigh and pushed himself up against the trunk—it was time to look for something to eat.
Suddenly, Black felt his hand brush against an odd bump that was slowly shifting.
"!"
He snatched his hand back. On the rough bark, a twisted human face was slowly surfacing; the tree's bark flowed like melting wax, gradually shaping distinct features.
Yes, the tree Black was leaning against was that massive beech tree.
"Hello," a deep voice issued from the beech tree's mouth. "Who are you?"
Black jerked back, dropping to his knees, his wand snapping up to point at the eerie face. "What are you?"
"As you can see," the beech tree drawled, the wrinkles in its bark easing with each word, "I am a tree."
Black was momentarily at a loss for words.
He wasn't blind; he could see that much.
It was just that he had never seen a tree with a human face that could hold a conversation.
"So?" Black still kept his wand trained on the beech tree. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" The beech tree frowned in a remarkably human way. "Wasn't it you who woke me?"
Black sighed and lowered his wand. "All right, my fault."
The dim-witted-looking tree before him didn't seem threatening.
"Mind if I lean on you and rest?" Black ventured.
The beech tree blinked and, instead of answering, asked, "Are you a good person?"
A good person?
Black froze.
In the eyes of the world, he was now a wanted man who had killed quite a few people—hardly a good person.
But he knew none of the charges pinned on him were true.
So…
"Of course. I'm a good person," he rasped to the beech tree.
At that, the beech tree's features relaxed at once. "That's good… I like good people… You may lean on me, friend."
For some reason, Black found this tree's clumsy honesty rather endearing.
He leaned back against the trunk again and let himself relax.
"Could you tell me some stories," the beech tree asked in its slow cadence, "I've never been outside…"
"All right."
Black lay down, suddenly struck by a strange urge to pour his heart out.
Using the beech's roots as a pillow, he began to talk about his school days—
the fun times spent with his friends.
Having gone without conversation for over a decade, Black's words came a bit haltingly.
But the beech tree didn't seem to mind; it listened intently, chiming in now and then.
Although Black felt the whole scene was a bit absurd, out here in the wilderness, having someone… a tree to talk to wasn't half bad.
After they had chatted for quite a while, Black asked the question he most wanted to know: "Can you tell me who planted you here?"
The beech tree was plainly taken aback, then answered without thinking, "I was planted here by my master, of course."
"I mean… what's your master's name."
"Master… that would be Master…"
Black was at a loss for words. So the tree wasn't merely simple—it was stupid.
"I mean, what is your master called?" he asked again, patiently.
"…Don't know."
"What about you? What's your name?"
"…Don't know."
"Then I'll give you a name."
"No."
The beech tree replied at once, "Only my master can name me."
"Fine," Black muttered, curling his lip. "Suit yourself."
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