Sirius: That Vicious Slytherin Woman! (12,000 Words)

Fudge was a man who cared immensely about his reputation, and indeed, as Dumbledore said, his mind was completely preoccupied with his position Minister for Magic, with nothing else on his mind.

Any talk of benefiting this or that is utter nonsense.

But if there's anything that can strike at political enemies and boost his reputation, Fudge is second to none, and he's been scrambling to get it faster than anyone else.

After Harry made the suggestion, Fudge accepted it without the slightest hesitation or doubt.

Hesitation at all would be disrespectful to him, a man of such profound and subtle character.

He didn't doubt what Harry said, after all, he said it in the Headmaster's Office, in front of the Headmaster and the heads of the four houses, and everyone tacitly agreed.

What else is there to say?

The next morning, just as the students were getting out of their sleeping bags in the Great Hall, they found the Great Hall doors open and more than a dozen menacing Auror strode in.

The leader, an Auror, had a curly, frizzy hairstyle and a fierce-looking face.

Harry recognized him; he was Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office.

"Does he look familiar?" Veratia whispered to Harry, her head down. "Isn't that him? The one who hit our own people with Charms?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

But after he finished laughing, he felt a little sad.

How could the head of the Auror Office be played like a child by a third-year student and a seventh-year student? Is this a distortion of human nature or a decline in morality?

Thinking back a hundred years, the Auror of the Ministry of Magic were quite powerful—could it be that in just one hundred years, the Auror have changed to this state?

They made their way to the Headmaster's Office, where Pettigrew had been locked up all day and couldn't move.

Everyone knew that his Animagus form was a rat, so Dumbledore decided to guard him himself instead of locking him in the dungeon and having Filch guard him.

Filch is not capable of that; everyone knows that. If he were to guard Pettigrew, Peter would probably slip away right under his nose in a matter of minutes.

Peter had been given a large bottle of Truth Serum, was clearly not in a good state. He looked even balder, at least that's what Harry thought. It's unclear whether Truth Serum causes hair loss.

As for the effects of the Truth Serum, they haven't worn off yet, which makes one wonder if Snape really has a grudge against Peter.

Harry thought so, after all, Peter was his father's sidekick—of course, he could also understand why Professor Snape hated Professor Lupin so much, because Lupin was also a member of his father's clique, codenamed: Moony.

And this Pettigrew...

Harry remembered a time when his father publicly punished Snape, Pettigrew was one of those cheering him on.

From this perspective, it makes sense.

Moreover, Pettigrew was the one who betrayed his mother Lily, leading to Lily death at the hands of Voldemort. As his mother's best friend, Snape would certainly hold a grudge against Peter for this.

"I never expected this," Scrimgeour said with emotion as he arrived at the Headmaster's Office. "I never imagined that the 'hero' we thought was dead and sacrificed twelve years ago would actually be alive and well, and have fooled all of us—"

"Take it easy, Scrimgeour," Dawlish said from the side. "At least the Auror aren't the most disgraced; after all, it wasn't the Auror Office that posthumously awarded him the Order of Merlin, First Class."

Scrimgeour's expression was initially a bit unpleasant, after all, he was one of the people in charge of the Sirius case.

But after Dawlish said that, Scrimgeour had a change of heart.

Good heavens, this is a disaster! He thought gleefully.

"I heard he's also an unregistered, illegal Animagus?" Scrimgeour said again. "Then we'd better be careful, lest he slip away like a mouse—I think his personality is pretty much like any other Animagus, equally cowardly, hiding in the gutter, barely surviving..."

"Alright, Scrimgeour," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, "We should get down to business now, like taking Pettigrew away so that Sirius Black, whom we've been tracking, can be exonerated, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah, yeah." Scrimgeour shook his curly hair, which was very bouncy and smooth. "That Black —this is like solving our biggest problem. In short, we no longer need to hunt down Sirius Black, and we even have to treat him as a hero—a true and touching friendship, a friend who was wrongfully imprisoned for many years but would fight for friendship..."

As he said this, he wiped the glint of light from the corner of his eye.

A short while later, Harry was led by Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's Office.

"Harry Potter," Scrimgeour said with a broad smile, opening his arms wide. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter— "

"You too, esteemed Auror," Harry nodded with a smile.

"Well then," Scrimgeour continued, "I think you already know what happened. Now we're going to take this filthy rat away—and I'm sure it won't be long before your Godfather Mr. Black, is back by your side."

"Thank you, Auror," Harry said 'reservedly'.

Seeing Harry's expression, Mr. Scrimgeour patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't be so formal, Mr. Potter. You are the Savior —let me introduce myself, I am Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office."

"Hello, Mr. Scrimgeour," Harry said, nodding.

"Alright, since there's nothing else, I'll take him with me." Scrimgeour turned to his colleagues and said, "Let's take this Pettigrew back to the Ministry of Magic to report. This afternoon, Wizengamot will hold an emergency court to convict him."

After saying this, Scrimgeour had someone put a pair of specially made shackles on Pettigrew and took him away from the Headmaster's Office.

When Professor McGonagall left the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore chuckled and poured Harry a glass of honey water.

"I really didn't expect this, Harry," Dumbledore said. "As a Gryffindor, you have such a smooth side—getting someone like Fudge to take your advice is something most people wouldn't be able to figure out."

"It's all thanks to Mr. Malfoy's teachings and example," Harry said with some emotion. "Oh, you probably don't know, but a hundred years ago, I would go to the Malfoy Manor during my holidays, and Mr. Septimus and Ignatius would take me to various occasions. He told me to listen more, observe more, and learn more, and that's how I learned all of that."

"As it turns out, powerful magic alone is not enough."

Professor Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the table, House Elf immediately served him a thick lemon-honey water—the kind that's half lemonade and half syrup, the kind that looks sickeningly sweet.

"Strong personal abilities and a brilliant mind are both indispensable, Harry."

"That's what Mr. Septimus often taught me," Harry said, taking the lemonade and thanking Dumbledore.

Dumbledore certainly noticed that Harry's expression was mostly one of gratitude when he mentioned Mr. Malfoy Sr..

It should be said that the Malfoy family a hundred years ago was not only a source of support for Harry, but also a nurturing force.

Yes, nurturing. Dumbledore could certainly see that the Malfoy family was grooming Harry as if he were their successor—it's quite possible that even the very Mr. Malfoy Sr. might have tacitly accepted that Harry would be his son-in-law.

Thinking about this, Dumbledore was also a little puzzled.

What kind of personality did Miss Malfoy have that allowed Harry to be so easily dug away by Miss Grindelwald with a hoe?

Is it just because they say one thing and mean another?

"As the chief archmage of Wizengamot, I will be present this afternoon to preside over the court proceedings," Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard. "We will interrogate Pettigrew and exonerate Sirius Black."

"I am both pleased and saddened," Professor Dumbledore said again. "I am pleased that my student has been exonerated and can walk in the sunlight; I am saddened that such a despicable and shameless person has appeared among my students."

"The one you should be most heartbroken about is Tom Riddle, Professor," Harry retorted without hesitation. "I think the most painful stain on your teaching career is none other than him."

Professor Dumbledore put down the cup of lemon syrup— Harry's words made him feel that even the sweetest syrup couldn't soothe the bitterness in his heart.

This child...

Seriously, you always bring up the very thing you don't want to talk about.

Seeing Dumbledore's distress, Harry considerately changed the subject, saying, "And what about Black? I mean— Sirius, have you found him?"

"If we could find him, we would have arrested him and sent him back to Azkaban long ago." Dumbledore picked up his cup again. "It may take some time before the news of his exoneration reaches his ears, so all we need to do now is wait patiently for him to appear."

"Okay." Harry nodded hesitantly. "Actually, I also have some questions I want to ask him, like about my dad..."

"Oh, actually, things aren't always as they seem, Harry." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "I think James has many admirable qualities, and even his mistakes can't overshadow his excellence—besides, Severus wasn't as innocent as you think during his school days. For example, the Charms you saw him use to hang Snape in Lily's memory was invented by Snape —how do you think he learned it?"

"But Professor Sprout said it wasn't just Professor Snape, there were others—" Harry said in a low voice, "Like the one who once made a Hufflepuff classmate's head so big, the disciplinary record is still in Filch's office."

"I don't want to excuse him for this; he really is... worse than the Weasley twins are now."

Professor Dumbledore didn't know how to clear James's name, so that's all he could say.

"Also..." Harry suddenly said, "That spy you had among the Death Eater, who exactly is he? Can you tell me?"

"The reason a spy is a spy is because his identity must be kept absolutely secret, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said earnestly.

"Of course I know, I just wanted to thank him," Harry said.

"Can you guarantee you'll keep quiet?" Dumbledore asked intently, his half-moon spectacles seeming to flicker with fire.

"Of course I can!" Harry nodded eagerly.

He desperately wanted to know who this person was so that he could repay the kindness of his informant.

"Sorry, Harry," Dumbledore winked mischievously at Harry, "I can too."

Harry was taken aback; he really hadn't expected Professor Dumbledore to play a trick on him.

Never mind, never mind.

He thought, if they don't want to talk about it, then so be it.

"Alright, I think you should head back now," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile. "We're going to Wizengamot this afternoon—to participate in the trial of Pettigrew."

"Alright, Professor." Harry nodded, stood up, and reached out to tease Fawkes was still dozing off.

When Fawkes was disturbed by Harry, it opened its eyes and saw that it was Harry. It spread its wings and made a pecking motion.

"Look closely, you silly bird." Harry flicked Fawkes's beak without any hesitation. "I'm Fiona's dad, by all accounts!"

Upon hearing Harry's words, Fawkes, who was furious at being called a "fool," suddenly froze.

It flapped its wings, and a human-like expression appeared on its face—the left cheek clearly showed fawning, and the right cheek showed sycophancy.

This incredible ability to change his expression at lightning speed left Harry speechless, realizing that even Phoenix could be so flexible and adaptable...

Fawkes lowered his head and rubbed his hand against Harry's.

Harry patted its head and said to it, "Alright, I'll be going now."

Fawkes reluctantly spread one wing and chirped twice—very tiring.

Colorful birds...

Harry thought to himself, and left the Headmaster's Office amidst Fawkes's reluctant gaze.

When Harry returned to the Great Hall, he could still see Hermione, amidst everyone's admiring gazes, eloquently recounting her story about Pettigrew.

"It seems Sirius Black is innocent, isn't he?" one student remarked.

"I think so too," another classmate said. "Think about it, Sirius Black probably knew that Pettigrew was in school, which is why he risked everything to escape and protect his godson—what a touching friendship! I really wish I could have a friendship like that."

"Sirius Black is my uncle!" Draco proudly proclaimed to everyone again.

He wasn't wrong, because his mother, Narcissa, was a daughter of the Black family before she got married, and her name was Narcissa Black.

So, in terms of kinship, Sirius Black is indeed Draco's uncle.

Draco felt a surge of pride, and once again he raised his head high, proud to have such an uncle.

Not only because of his uncle's noble character, but also because his uncle was the first wizard to escape from Azkaban.

No matter what you do, as long as you're the first, you'll always be remembered in history, regardless of whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.

Ron, on the other hand, sat on the stool with a sullen expression, while the Weasley family sat beside him with equally gloomy faces.

Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, the four Weasley, sat down next to Ron, each looking more eager than the last to perform a leap of faith from the eight- Gryffindor tower.

Percy, in particular, had such a messy hair that even his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater sitting next to him trying to comfort him couldn't brighten his mood, or even make it cloudy.

This is understandable, of course, because the first owner of the rat, Scabbers, was Percy Weasley.

"Take it easy, Percy," Penelope comforted him. "At least you're not its owner."

"Oh, you're really talking without any sense of the situation," Ginny retorted. "After all, a fugitive didn't live in your house for twelve years—as a pet mouse, no less."

"Also, Miss Clearwater," the Weasley twins unusually quiet, "I need to remind you that the mouse's first owner was your boyfriend. Just think about it, your little boyfriend slept with a bald old man for years..."

Miss Clearwater's eyes widened.

Miss Clearwater hesitated.

Miss Clearwater remained silent.

It has to be said that her imagination is truly remarkable; she has already conjured up an image in her mind of her boyfriend embracing that bald old man...

My goodness, this is absolutely breathtaking... it's absolutely dazzling.

Of course, let alone the eldest brother, all the Weasley family children, having lived in the family for so many years, have inevitably had close contact with Scabbers.

For example, Percy once kissed that mouse.

When Fred and George were young and didn't understand things, they even let mice crawl around inside each other's clothes.

As for Ginny, she didn't do anything too outrageous, but she did reach out and massage the mouse...

Ron was the worst off; he treated that rat like a treasure, never letting it out of his sight, as if it were his own alter ego.

I've never seen Ron care so much about anything else, except for rats.

"Stop talking, stop talking."

Ron slumped over the table, his stomach churning.

Good heavens, if it were possible, Ron would even like to travel back in time twelve years and strangle that rat to death—

"I suggest we get a cat at home," Fred and George said in unison, their tone very serious.

"Great idea," Ginny chimed in. "I've decided too, I'm going to get a cat as a pet—what about you, Ron?"

"Anything that eats rats will do," Ron quickly said. "I'm not picky, as long as it eats rats—"

"Are you still blaming Hermione now?" Harry chuckled, stepping forward and patting Ron on the shoulder. "I remember you two were arguing yesterday about Hermione's parrot putting Scabbers in a wheel and spinning it around, right? So what should you say to her now?"

Ron puffed out his cheeks and came over to Hermione's side.

Hermione was still excitedly telling her friends about what happened last night when she was startled to see Ron walking over.

She assured everyone that she hadn't exaggerated anything; she had simply described how...

Ha ha...

"Hermione," Ron said, head bowed, "I want to apologize to you—I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Hermione was stunned; she had no idea what Ron was up to.

"It's about Jack yesterday." Ron was still looking down. "I owe you and Jack an apology, and I hope you can forgive me—"

"So that's what happened..." Hermione patted Ron on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Ron, I've already forgotten about it. To be honest—you were a victim too, weren't you?"

"Mmm!" Ron nodded his little head vigorously.

"If you want a new pet, I think I can help you choose one," Hermione said, being very considerate of Ron's feelings. "Or, you can tell me what you want, and we can go to the Magical Creatures Pet Shop together, and I'll help you pick it out."

"Thank you, Hermione."

Ron's eyes welled up with tears.

It has to be said that gentle girls are incredibly attractive to young boys, at least that's what Ron thinks.

"Have something to eat," Hermione said to Ron. "You can't keep going without food... Harry, would you like to eat something with us?"

"Oh, that works too."

Harry naturally didn't refuse and sat down next to the two of them.

"Let me think." Harry tapped the table. "How about some snacks—like Ice Mice?"

Ron's face immediately fell.

"Oh my god, Harry," he said, his face darkening, "Please don't mention rats, okay? I never want to see a rat in my life..."

"Hahahaha..." Harry laughed wickedly, patting Ron on the shoulder and saying, "Cheer up, buddy, it's not a big deal... Look at me, I'm actually one of the victims too, you remember? I hugged Skull too..."

At this point, Harry suddenly froze.

Yeah, I've held Scabbers before... I even held him in my arms...

Harry's face suddenly turned ashen, and he vomited.

"Oh my god..." Harry cried out, seemingly from the depths of his soul, "I'm not feeling too well either, bro..."

"Haha..." Ron chuckled dryly, patting Harry on the back to pat him on the back and help him catch his breath. "Well, I guess I'm not the only one who's having bad luck."

It was a weekend, and after dinner, they were required to stay in the Great Hall to study—or they could go out and take a walk by the Black Lake.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the Quidditch pitch to relax.

He had intended to look for Veratia, but he was disappointed to find Veratia not at the Slytherin's long table, but somewhere else.

Harry assumed Veratia had returned to the Muggle world to attend school, so he didn't think much of it and invited Ron to go to the Quidditch stadium to relax.

After all, Ron's psychological trauma was quite extensive, and he needed to find some leisure and entertainment activities to help him forget his gloom.

"How about trying training?" Harry said to Ron with a grin. "Get on a broomstick—I remember you've always wanted to play Quidditch, haven't you? Wood's retiring next year, maybe you could try applying for Wood job, what do you think?"

"Can I?" Ron grinned.

You know what, as Quidditch fanatic, Ron never refuses a thrilling Quidditch.

What can make him forget his unpleasantness?

Aside from chicken legs, it's Quidditch!

Hermione clicked her tongue, but considering Ron's current mental state, she swallowed back the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

The most important thing right now is to help Ron forget his troubles, she thought.

"How can we not give it a try?" Harry said with a chuckle. "Wood and the others just came out over there. Maybe you could go up and give it a shot? Let Wood teach you."

"But I'm not very familiar with him..." Ron hesitated.

"It's alright." Harry pulled him over to Wood's side and said, "Oliver —I mean, could he train with Ron? I think he has some Quidditch talent."

Wood looked Ron up and down, nodded, and said, "Ron Weasley, right? Hmm... another Weasley... I think you could give it a try. After all, your brother Charlie and those clones are both Gryffindor Quidditch players. Maybe you have the talent for it too."

"Oh Oliver," Fred and George said together, "And what about Percy?"

"He doesn't count," Wood said without hesitation.

"Come on up and give it a try—let me see how good you are at flying," Wood said to Ron.

Harry handed the flying broomstick to Ron: "You give it a try, Ron— "

Ron was a little nervous. It was his first time riding the Nimbus 2000. Before, he had always used the Cleansweep Seven from his Flying Lesson, which was not only inferior in performance but also much slower than the Nimbus 2000.

"I'll give it a try," Ron said, swallowing hard.

"Don't be nervous, buddy." Harry patted Ron's arm. "Don't be nervous, you'll be fine."

Ron nodded, then lightly kicked the broom, which shot up like a rocket.

"Whoa!" he screamed, gripping the broom tightly.

However, it should be acknowledged that Ron's flying skills were quite good; at least in this situation, he wasn't shaken off by the broom.

"What position do you think he would be suitable for?" Wood asked Harry, shading his eyes with his hand.

Although he was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he still had to listen to the opinions of Harry, the Seeker who always led them to victory.

"A goalkeeper?" Harry said to Wood. "You're graduating next year, Oliver. Gryffindor needs a goalkeeper, doesn't it?"

"You have a good point, Harry." After careful consideration, Wood agreed. "Let's see if he has the potential to be a goalkeeper, what do you think?"

"Okay, sure," Harry nodded.

Ron quickly adapted to the Nimbus 2000, and he can now perform acrobatic maneuvers freely in the air.

"Look, Harry, Hermione!" Ron shouted gleefully, "Look at me, look at me—"

"Fred, George!" Wood beckoned to the two of them. "You two, come here."

Fred and George walked over, laughing and joking, and asked, "Our respected captain, what are your orders?"

"I need you to assess the potential of our reserve goalkeeper," Wood said, pointing to Ron, who was tumbling around in the distance. "Look, there he is."

Which one?

Fred and George, who had set up a sunshade, saw Ron in the direction Wood was pointing.

"You mean, our Ronnie little darling?"

The twins revealed an evil smile.

"Yes, it's Ron." Wood hadn't yet grasped the gravity of the situation. "Although you're the team's Chaser, I think you two can temporarily fill in as Chaser in this situation—now, it's your two responsibility to put the Bludger in the goal—"

As soon as they finished speaking, the twins soared into the sky.

"It seems they really want their youngest brother on the team," Wood said to Harry with a laugh. "They even took on the role of Chaser, which isn't their forte—you know, the two of them are usually very resistant to training."

"No," Harry said firmly, "I think they just want to enjoy the thrill of tormenting Ron ..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Ron let out a scream.

"Wow!"

George swung his arm and threw the Bludger at Ron's stomach.

"Sorry, that's too high!" George whistled and shouted to Ron.

Ron angrily threw the Bludger down, and Fred, without saying a word, aimed it at Ron's backside and threw it.

Ron was now prepared; he lifted his leg to block the incoming Bludger.

"That's it?" he shouted. "Have you eaten, clones?"

Fred and George heard Ron's words and floated together in mid-air.

They exchanged a glance and said in unison, "It seems our Ronnie little darling isn't entirely convinced..."

"... Then let him learn what it means to respect his older brother," the two said again.

They split up and attacked Harry from both sides.

"Hey, aren't those two Chaser?" Angelina looked at Wood suspiciously. "Why are they doing such a good job as Chaser too?"

"Or perhaps the desire to teach his brother a lesson got the better of him," Harry commented succinctly.

Harry's assessment proved to be correct; the twins started pulling off some fancy tricks, constantly shoving the ball into Ron's goal.

But Ron also improved quickly. At the beginning, he could only watch the twins score, but by the end of the game, he was able to occasionally block a few goals.

"A brilliant performance." Wood didn't hold back his applause, praising Ron.

Keep in mind that training is not the same as real combat. This is a two-on-one situation – there are no external factors to interfere with during training, such as Bludger or Chaser. It's just the two of them toying with Ron, the goalkeeper.

Being able to block a few goals occasionally is already an outstanding performance. Even Wood can't guarantee how many goals he can block against two unchallenged Chaser.

"Then it's settled." Wood concluded, patting Ron's bruised and swollen shoulder. "From now on, you'll train with us. You'll be the backup goalkeeper. When something comes up, or... after I graduate next year, you can take over, little Weasley."

"Can I really do it, Captain Wood?" Ron asked in surprise, he thought he wouldn't pass.

"Of course," Wood said with a smile. "You've done very well, managing to block a few goals from two unchallenged Chaser. If I could rate you, I would give you an 'O' without hesitation."

"I really hope Hogwarts will offer Quidditch," Ron laughed heartily. "That way I can get another 'O'."

However, this is impossible; how could Hogwarts possibly offer a Quidditch course?

After lunch, Harry was summoned by Dumbledore to attend the trial of Pettigrew at the Ministry of Magic.

Using Apparition, the two of them arrived next to a phone booth.

"This is it," Dumbledore said softly. "See that phone booth? Go in first."

It was a dilapidated phone booth, the glass of which was missing, and it looked like it had been in disrepair for years—but when Muggle passed by, they would instinctively avoid it and never look in this direction.

It's Muggle Repelling Charm.

When he went in, Dumbledore also came in. He picked up the phone and fiddled with the worn-out dial.

As the dial spun back to its original position, a woman's cold voice rang out from the phone booth. But the voice did not come from the receiver that Professor Dumbledore was holding. The voice was loud and clear, as if an unseen woman was standing right next to them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore said softly, "Came to the Ministry of Magic with Harry Potter to participate in the trial of Pettigrew."

"Thank you," the woman said in a cold voice. "Guest, please take the badge and pin it to your clothing."

Ring ring, clatter...

It made a sound like a cash register, Harry saw something slide out of the metal slot that was usually used to dispense coins.

He picked it up: it was a square silver badge that read: Harry Potter, Jury.

He pinned the badge to the front of his school uniform shirt, and the woman's voice rang out again.

"Guests of the Ministry of Magic, you will need to have your wands checked at the security checkpoint, located at the far end of the main hall."

The floor of the phone booth suddenly trembled, as if they were slowly sinking into the ground in an elevator.

The sidewalk outside the phone booth's glass window rose higher and higher until finally darkness enveloped them.

About a minute later, a thin golden light shone on his feet, then gradually widened, expanding to his body, and finally shining directly on his face.

"I think the process for getting into the Ministry of Magic should be improved," Harry said to Dumbledore. "At least it wasn't this complicated back in the Ministry of Magic."

"I think you're right, Harry," Dumbledore agreed with Harry.

As soon as he finished speaking, the woman's voice rang out again.

"The Ministry of Magic hopes you have a pleasant day."

Then, the door to the phone booth suddenly opened, and Harry followed Dumbledore out.

They stood at one end of a long, magnificent hall with gleaming dark wooden floors.

The peacock blue ceiling is inlaid with Winky gold symbols that are constantly moving and changing, like a giant high-altitude bulletin board.

The walls on all four sides were covered with dark, glossy black wood panels, and many gilded fireplaces were embedded in the panels.

Every few seconds, with a soft "poof," a wizard would suddenly emerge from one of the fireplaces on the left. On the right, several people were queuing up in front of each fireplace, waiting to leave.

In the center of the Entrance hall is a fountain, and in a circular pool stands a group of pure gold statues, larger than life-size.

The tallest of them was a noble-looking wizard, holding his wand high, pointing it straight to the sky.

Surrounding him was a beautiful witch, a Centaurs, a Goblin, and a House Elf.

Centaurs, Goblin, and House Elf all looked up at the two wizards with boundless adoration.

Glistening jets of water shot from the tip of the wizard's wand, from the Centaurs's arrowhead, from the tip of the Goblin's hat, and from the ears of the House Elf.

"It looks harmonious, doesn't it?" Harry said to Dumbledore, referring to the Magical Brothers Fountain sculpture.

"It's all an illusion," Dumbledore said softly, making no attempt to muffle his voice, seemingly unconcerned about being overheard. "I don't believe a statue can represent the magical world. You see, Centaurs and Goblin all consider themselves far superior to wizards; how could they possibly look up to wizards with such reverence?"

"Really?" Harry shrugged noncommittally; the Goblin looked up to him with great awe.

It can only be said that too few people were killed.

Having experienced the Goblin Rebellion, Harry always harbored great wariness towards these non-human races. He had seen too many villages razed to the ground by Goblin...

"Let's go through the procedures," Dumbledore said to Harry.

The two walked together to a table on the left, next to which was a sign that read "Security Check". Sitting below was a wizard wearing a peacock blue robe and with a unkempt beard.

As they approached, he looked up and put down the Daily Prophet.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the wizard said, "Welcome."

"I have a guest with me, Pettigrew, who will be on the jury," Professor Dumbledore said. "He is Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?"

The wizard, who had been very sleepy, suddenly opened his eyes upon hearing Harry's name.

"Harry Potter?" he repeated, then nodded and said, "Alright—you can go in now."

"No security check?" Harry asked curiously.

"I don't think there's anything worth checking about third-year students," the wizard said to him. "Alright—you can go now."

"Thank you, Eric." Dumbledore smiled and nodded at him.

After Harry left, the wizard even reached out and wiped his eyes.

"Oh, poor child..."

The news of Pettigrew had spread throughout the entire Ministry of Magic, and he certainly knew about it—in fact, everyone in the Ministry of Magic knew.

This was thanks to Fudge's extensive publicity after his return, and his energetic performance, as if he was afraid that people would not know about the Savior and therefore be grateful to him.

Harry followed Dumbledore to an elevator. No one was using the elevator at the time, and only the two of them were there when it started moving.

A moment later, the elevator slowly started moving, the chain rattling, and the indifferent woman's voice from the phone booth rang out again.

"The seventh floor, the Department of Magical Sports and Games, which includes the headquarters of the British and Irish Quidditch League, the Official Gobstones Club, and the Office of Quizzical Products."

Gobstones is a game popular among wizarding children. It uses a special type of stone and is similar to pinball in Muggle games. The main difference is that when one side loses a point, the stones spray a foul-smelling liquid in the face of the person who lost.

This game is relatively niche in the magical world and doesn't have a very "cool" reputation, which makes Gobstones fans very resentful.

"Gobstones ..." Harry looked nostalgic. "Oh my god, I remember when Gareth took me to play Gobstones in my first year. He loved the game... Come to think of it, he even became the captain of the Gobstones team later on."

Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry also has its own Gobstones Club and Gobstones Team.

"You may not know this," Dumbledore winked at Harry, "Severus's mother, Erin Prince, was once captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team at Hogwarts."

"Is that so?" Harry asked with interest.

"Of course," Dumbledore chuckled. "It's just that Gobstones is a niche activity and not a very popular form of entertainment."

Harry shrugged. He really didn't like Gobstones. He wouldn't have tried it if Gareth hadn't liked playing with it—it really didn't feel good to get sprayed with stinky water.

The elevator doors opened, and two wizards in a hurry walked in. They greeted Dumbledore and then stood aside to wait for the elevator.

"The sixth floor, the Department of Magical Transportation, includes the Floo Network Administration, the Broom Regulatory Control Bureau, the Portkey Office, and the Apparition Testing Centre."

The elevator doors opened again, and the two wizards quickly left the elevator.

No one came in this time, and the elevator kept moving until it reached the second floor.

"The second level Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which includes the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Auror Headquarters, and the Wizengamot Administration."

"We should go, Harry," Dumbledore said to Harry. "The courtroom is over here. Come with me."

They stepped out of the elevator and continued walking forward, passing a window where it was raining heavily outside.

"You should know that we're still underground," Dumbledore said to Harry. "The Department of Magical Maintenance decides what the weather is like at the Ministry of Magic each day. If they're in a bad mood, it will rain outside—you see, it's raining now, which means they don't seem to be in a very good mood, but not too bad. If that were the case, it would be a hurricane or a thunderstorm outside."

As Harry passed through a door, he saw Mr. Weasley sitting inside.

There was a sign above the door that read "Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office".

Harry knew that Mr. Weasley was the Head of Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry greeted the office.

Mr. Weasley looked up, saw Harry and Dumbledore, and stood up with a smile.

"Professor Dumbledore, Harry," he greeted. "You've come all this way? Well, well, I'm surprised things turned out this way, but I'm also glad Black has been exonerated— Fudge has told us the whole truth. I'm so glad, so glad Black wasn't a bad guy, but—"

At this point, Mr. Weasley's expression turned somewhat unpleasant.

"I never imagined that Peter would turn into a rat and stay in my house for twelve years!" he said angrily. "That traitor... Good heavens..."

"You've been implicated because of this, haven't you?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"Oh, it's nothing—" Mr. Weasley sighed, lifting the hem of his suit jacket to the side and putting his hands on his hips. "Good heavens, it's my fault too. I never imagined that the rat would be Peter Pettigrew..."

"It's really hard to believe, Mr. Weasley," Harry sighed. "Who would have thought a perfectly normal person would turn into a rat? He's so cunning. It's not your fault, nobody would have guessed. He even fooled Dumbledore."

This was quite obvious; even at school, Dumbledore didn't realize it.

Mr. Weasley's expression softened a little.

"Thank you, Harry." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Good boy, you're always so understanding... sigh."

He glanced at his watch and said to the two of them, "Well, the trial is about to begin—I think we should leave here and head to the trial chamber..."

At the same time, Forbidden Forest.

Sirius, who was munching on food that Pabbie had stolen from the tent, happily swung his tail, which thumped the ground like a propeller.

He was very fortunate to have a Unicorn friend, a Unicorn friend who could steal delicious food from who-knows-where.

More than ten years!

More than ten years!

In Azkaban, there wasn't much good food to eat—even after he got out, he was always eating dead rats or Giant Spider to survive; he had never eaten such things before.

Sirius thought he should introduce her to Harry, but then he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

He barked and turned around, only to find that standing behind him was the Slytherin girl who had given Harry a lap pillow by the Black Lake.

For a fleeting moment, Sirius's vigilance reached its peak.

You wicked Slytherin woman! What are you doing!

However, without warning, Sirius felt a sudden dizziness and collapsed to the ground.

Stun... Stunning Spell...

This was his last thought.

Before he lost consciousness, he saw the pretty girl holding a small bag, as if she wanted to put him in it.

What are we supposed to do?

With this thought in mind, Sirius fainted.

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(The phone suddenly came back on around 9 o'clock. I was so happy. Luckily, writing 12,000 words was enough...)

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