Chapter 256. Accident
"Truth is..." Black lowered his head, his voice turning even hoarser. "There's one thing that isn't wrong. I am one of those responsible for James and Lily's deaths. I decided James should switch Secret-Keeper from me to Peter. If..."
"A tragedy is always made of many accidents," Dumbledore cut in softly. "This was not your fault. An accident is an accident; none of us could have foreseen it. I hope you can forgive yourself, Black."
Forgive himself... that is far harder than forgiving someone else.
Adrian Wesson couldn't help glancing into Dumbledore's eyes.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul—or perhaps that's just preconception. Though Dumbledore spoke with perfect calm, Wesson could feel a sadness hidden beneath the surface.
—You are the last person qualified to say that, Headmaster.
At that moment, Wesson noticed something else.
Black was not as deranged as the original plot described.
On the contrary, he seemed very calm and rational.
By rights, after twelve years of Dementors' torment in Azkaban, going mad would be the normal outcome; keeping one's wits would be the miracle.
Wesson immediately asked Black how he had shaken off the Dementors' influence.
"I don't know," Black said, shaking his head. "I remember that when I saw Peter's photo in the Daily Prophet, I could hardly think. My head held only one thought—that I would kill him."
At that, he felt a flicker of wrongness.
He could be sure that, when he had just escaped from Azkaban, his mind had indeed been somewhat unclear.
When had he begun to calm down?
In a flash, he remembered that odd tree he'd encountered in the Forbidden Forest.
However, he did not speak of this.
Next, Black mentioned what he had done after breaking out: swimming the North Sea on a stormy night; pulling a set of clothes off a drunk Muggle; acquiring Polyjuice Potion from an irregular market; taking the Marauder's Map back from the Weasley twins; and, in the end, exposing a flaw and being caught by Wesson.
When Wesson had finished listening, he couldn't help feeling a little moved.
Compared with the reckless fugitive of the original, this Black could practically be called resourceful.
If he hadn't run into Wesson, he might really have managed to kill Peter at Hogwarts.
When Black had said all he needed to say, Dumbledore looked at him. "So what do you intend to do now?"
"What do I intend? Of course, kill—"
Black stopped abruptly; he realised he was falling into the urge for revenge again.
He took a deep breath, a flash of clarity passing through his eyes. "As things stand, we must first drag Peter out into the open. He's hiding now by the youngest Weasley boy, in the form of a pet rat."
Hearing this, Dumbledore and Wesson exchanged a glance.
What Black did not yet know was that they had already uncovered Scabbers' true identity. Peter was, at this moment, comfortably holed up in a concealed room at Hogwarts.
"Don't worry about Peter, Black. I'll keep him under control—that won't be difficult," Dumbledore said. "Now I must write to Fudge. After the investigation, the truth will soon come to light."
"The Ministry of Magic..." Black muttered.
He had not a shred of goodwill toward the Ministry. When he was sent to Azkaban back then, they skipped the trial altogether; it seemed everyone simply assumed he was the murderer.
Such slapdash conduct left him with little trust.
But at present, it seemed they could only rely on the Ministry to react swiftly to this matter.
The days that followed were extraordinarily quiet.
Regarding Black, Dumbledore and Wesson told no one.
Before the dust settled, it was better to keep it secret, or unnecessary panic might be stirred up.
As for the Ministry—recently, owls had been visiting the Headmaster's office far more often; clearly, undercurrents were moving.
What surprised Wesson, however, was that the Ministry did not immediately send anyone; the reason was unknown.
Tonks, meanwhile, told Wesson they had received the latest orders: they were to remain stationed at Hogwarts, and the Dementors' deployment had been rescinded.
In addition, the task of housing Black had been temporarily assigned to Wesson.
Thus, over these few days, a large stray dog suddenly began roaming Hogwarts, sticking to Wesson's side.
For safety's sake, Wesson even changed Black's coat from black to pink—of course, this was entirely in line with Black's wishes (Black: It was not).
At last, the start of term arrived.
The students returned, and Hogwarts grew lively once more.
On the afternoon of the second day of term, Wesson's office was warm and cosy. A great heap of colourful salamanders blazed in an oversized fireplace.
These were the newest varieties sent from a magical-creatures shop, and each salamander had its own unique colour.
After much thought, Wesson had decided to make salamanders the subject of the next few lessons.
Past classes had shown that these toasty little fellows were extremely popular with the students.
Incidentally, according to the shop girl, the shop's owner, Roskin, still seemed to be travelling in France, with no sign of returning.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but Wesson thought the shop girl's hair had thinned noticeably.
Meanwhile, Black, looking bored, tossed burning logs one by one into the hearth. The salamanders leapt about in delight, painting his face in flickering colours.
"Still no news of Peter?" he sighed. "It's been nearly a fortnight."
"The Ministry probably needs a bit of time to respond," Wesson said casually. "After all, they arrested the wrong man, kept an innocent fellow in Azkaban for twelve years, and let the real culprit run free—hardly a small matter."
"Bloody awful," Black muttered. "But you should at least tell me where Peter is now."
Wesson only smiled and said nothing.
Dumbledore had not told Black Peter's whereabouts, nor had he allowed Wesson to reveal them.
Before the truth stood plain, anything could still reverse.
Although Dumbledore was willing to trust Black, who could prove that everything Black said was certainly true?
Not everyone was like Wesson, knowing all that would happen.
In a sense, Black was still under Wesson's watch.
"Knock—knock—"
The office door was rapped.
Black reacted at once, dropping to the floor and taking his Animagus form, turning into a large black dog.
Wesson waved his wand and tinted his coat pink.
"Come in."
Under Black's aggrieved gaze, the door slowly swung open.
A second later, Harry stepped into the office.
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