The Bandit's Flame Reaches the Heavens

"Aha, Black, quite a busy day, isn't it?

Turning into a big black dog, traveling from Privet Drive to London, watching your godson enter the Leaky Cauldron, watching him all alone with a big trunk, no one to help him, lonely and pathetic.

Looking at that face so like his father's, those eyes so like his mother's, I imagine you're dying to rush up to him and tell him you're innocent, that you want to adopt him, right?"

Dewey sat in the cafe, continuously adding sugar to his coffee cup while spouting trash talk.

Sarcastic.

It looked like he wasn't drinking coffee; he was drinking sugar.

Sirius Black sat opposite him, listening to Dewey's trash talk. He didn't speak, but judging by his clenched fists, Dewey was only a hair's breadth away from getting a beating.

His attire, compared to Dewey's hodgepodge, looked more serious and vintage.

Dewey had found Sirius a headscarf, a veil, and a white robe.

He looked just like a devout believer.

Two people wrapped up so tightly sat brazenly in a London cafe drinking coffee, right next to the glass window.

No one suspected them.

Outside, police, Hit Wizards, and Aurors passed by one after another, yet none of them could imagine that the felon they were struggling to capture was sitting in a nearby cafe, leisurely watching them patrol.

Sirius marveled at the strangeness of the world.

He also gained a new understanding of the sheer audacity of the man before him.

"Why did you come to find me?"

Sirius said in a low voice.

It was clear he hadn't been doing well; even after escaping Azkaban, Sirius was plagued by nightmares—an aftereffect of living with Dementors for so long that could not be cured.

Even the famous Harry Potter had been left traumatized after seeing a Dementor just once.

Let alone prisoners like them.

Dewey took a sip of coffee and said, "I have a big plan."

He spoke earnestly and calmly, and Sirius chuckled.

"And what does that have to do with me?"

He countered.

"It has everything to do with you, Black. Don't forget that we are both fugitives now. I know what you want to do.

You want to sneak into Hogwarts, find Scabbers, force him to reveal his true form, and prove your innocence in front of all the teachers and students, don't you?

But what makes you think you can enter Hogwarts?

I've heard the news: Minister for Magic Fudge has joined forces with the Hogwarts school governors to pressure Dumbledore into allowing Dementors into Hogwarts to protect Harry Potter.

The entire school is full of ghosts, portraits, teachers, and Dumbledore. Even if you are an Animagus, what makes you think you can enter the boys' dormitory and get close to Harry Potter?

Your good luck?

Or are you confident you can outwit McGonagall, or do you think you can take on Flitwick?

Let me think, if you ran into Snape, do you think Snape would give you a chance to explain?"

Dewey's questions were sharp, and Sirius fell silent.

"Tell me your plan."

Sirius seemed to have compromised.

Dewey laughed softly.

"That is why I need your help. With my assistance, you can prove your innocence, and I can gain more knowledge. Our goals align."

Dewey whispered his plan to Sirius.

Black looked at Dewey.

He looked at him carefully and earnestly, from head to toe, as if he were seeing this person for the first time.

"You are truly insane. Do you know what the consequences of doing this will be?"

Sirius asked.

"I know. I am very clear about what I am doing. I will die, have my soul sucked out by a Dementor, but that isn't the worst possible outcome, is it?

I don't want to live every day in regret and misery."

Dewey said.

If a man cannot feast from the tripod in life, he may as well be boiled in it in death.

Dewey told himself internally.

He looked at Sirius and said, "I was already insane. The moment I was locked in Azkaban, I went mad.

If I weren't mad, I wouldn't be here.

This is my plan. Compared to yours, while it is dangerous, it also offers the greatest reward."

Dewey did not give Sirius a chance to think. Staring into his eyes, Dewey growled in a low voice, "We don't have much time, Black. Give me your choice!"

Dewey's question was resolute and decisive!

Sirius looked at Dewey, set down his coffee cup, and said, "How do we do it?"

Dewey raised an eyebrow, his straight back suddenly slumping.

"Can you cast spells without a wand?"

He asked.

Sirius replied, "I can, but the effect will be greatly diminished."

"Very well. I need you to cast Expelliarmus on me while empty-handed. I have a wand here—oak, dragon heartstring. You should be able to use it well enough."

Dewey said decisively.

Sirius asked, "Then what will you use?"

"That is the first step of our plan, Sirius."

Dewey said, "I have another wand—apple wood, unicorn hair."

"It seems this wand doesn't suit you; it doesn't like Dark Magic."

Sirius remarked.

It appeared he also knew that Dewey had used the Avada Kedavra curse on the Ministry of Magic agents.

Dewey shrugged and said, "Then you should also know that my Unforgivable Curses can't even kill a person. To me, Avada Kedavra is no better than Stupefy. I don't like Dark Magic, just as Dark Magic doesn't like me."

Hearing this, Sirius laughed again, revealing his yellowed teeth.

He looked as if he hadn't laughed in a long time, and the expression was incredibly awkward.

"Very well. Where are we going to find you this wand? Ollivander's shop?"

Sirius's mood had improved; it was clear that Dewey's grand plan had ignited the adventurous spirit within him.

He felt his blood surging—a rare and precious treasure, just like happiness, in Azkaban.

"Of course not."

Dewey said with a malicious glint in his eyes, "Doesn't the Ministry of Magic claim we are fugitives? Then I think we should do something fugitives enjoy. I mean, we can go wizard hunting."

Dewey continued, "If I recall correctly, the Ministry of Magic's Visitor's Entrance is right in the center of London."

He smiled and said, "So, right under the noses of many wizards, we are going to do something absolutely insane."

At 9:00 PM that night, the ship docked, and Walker and several colleagues disembarked.

They were in terrible shape, visibly exhausted.

Several Hit Wizards had fallen asleep on the boat, and even in their sleep, they were restless, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.

A breakout from Azkaban was a major incident. After undergoing rigorous interrogation to ensure they weren't accomplices, these Hit Wizards who guarded Azkaban had narrowly avoided being thrown into the prison themselves.

Being interrogated in Azkaban had drained them to the point of physical and mental collapse.

Even so, they couldn't rest.

Today was their shift rotation. Normally, they would have had fifteen days of leave to recover, but that time off had been canceled.

They would have one day of rest, and by tomorrow afternoon, they had to report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be assigned to patrol squads to hunt for the two Azkaban escapees.

"Don't let me find those two. If I do, I certainly won't show them any mercy! Those two damn idiots."

Walker said with loathing. Beside him, his five colleagues were so tired they were nearly collapsing.

One man went to wake the remaining Hit Wizards one by one.

Working in Azkaban was a double torture, both physical and psychological; even for them, the jailers, it felt like a fate worse than death.

For the Hit Wizards, it was just another form of imprisonment.

Fortunately, the Hit Wizards stationed at Azkaban were well-compensated with high benefits and pay. Coupled with the Ministry of Magic's usual disregard for human life—operating on the principle of working their staff to death—these Hit Wizards had nowhere else to go.

The wizarding world was small, and finding another job with such a generous salary was unlikely.

"Very well, I think the same."

The Hit Wizard who had gone to call the others said to Walker, "Whose turn is it to treat? It's you, Walker. Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron and have some fun. Does anyone have any chocolate? Give me a piece."

Walker gave a casual grunt. He was exhausted, yet he dared not sleep; past experience had taught him that sleeping at a time like this would only leave one feeling more drained, inducing a state of sleep paralysis.

They needed to have some fun and cut loose. The Ministry of Magic maintained a permanent private room at the Leaky Cauldron as a work perk for these Hit Wizards stationed at Azkaban.

"Very well, let's go."

He spoke languidly. None of them had any intention of returning to the Ministry of Magic just yet; they planned to drink and revel through the night to savor the joys of life.

Just then, two plumes of black smoke descended from the sky!

Someone was Apparating!

These Hit Wizards never could have imagined that anyone would dare to strike at them at a time like this!

In a game of cat and mouse, it was always the cat catching the mouse—when had a mouse ever turned around to bite the cat?

Their sluggish brains hadn't even processed what was happening before they saw those two faces they knew all too well.

Dewey strode forward. He had no wand, yet he was fearless; the very moment he materialized, he charged straight at the Hit Wizards!

"Protego!"

"Protego!"

"Protego!"

Three golden shields blocked his path, but Sirius was even more direct. Facing these men, he struck swiftly and decisively, spells like Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, and Expelliarmus flying everywhere!

How could these exhausted Hit Wizards possibly be a match for these two powerhouses? Walker had only just raised his wand when a spell from Sirius struck him, sending him flying.

Dewey continued his stride forward, his own spells striking the shields and rebounding, injuring the Hit Wizards themselves!

He landed a punch in a Hit Wizard's stomach, forcing the man to vomit up his dinner from the night before!