You're a Liar, Dewey Jones!

The same night, September 2nd, Hogsmeade, the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius Black sat on the floor. Dust was everywhere; it looked as though no one had set foot here for years. Sirius was likely the first visitor in a long time.

There were even quite a few spiders, all of which Sirius had eliminated one by one.

Never underestimate insects, animals, or plants.

Sirius couldn't afford to gamble. He didn't know if these spiders might recognize some talking monster and betray his whereabouts.

He sat on the floor, brewing a potion.

His wand was in his hand, ready at any moment to flee or end his own life. Sending Dewey into Hogwarts was a massive gamble; if Dewey were caught, Snape wouldn't even need Veritaserum—he could legally and legitimately use Legilimency on him to expose his location.

He didn't think Dewey could withstand Snape's Legilimency.

What kind of madman would dare to deceive Dumbledore?

Even now, Sirius felt that Dewey was insane.

He knew this plan was riddled with flaws and too many details were impossible to predict. To stay safely at Hogwarts, Dewey would need an immense amount of improvisation. Sirius Black exhaled a cold breath, rubbed his hands together, and continued to brew the potion.

Hogsmeade Village was located on a mountain, covered in snow year-round, and the weather was frigid.

Sirius dared not light the fireplace here; he could only rely on his own physical constitution to endure the cold.

As the potion continued to brew, he leaned against the wall, remaining in a half-dreaming, half-waking state—just like Dewey, he wasn't used to sleeping in a bed. Whenever they slept, they were filled with fear and prone to convulsions. Every time they drifted off, a nightmare from which they could never wake awaited them.

It was that deep, dark island.

Those who had been to Azkaban left their souls there forever.

September 2nd.

Early in the morning, Dewey woke up from the floor, full of spirit. Not even the nightmares or the need to wake up every hour to drink potions could make him decadent.

A man whose mind was filled with revenge and grand plans would not be so easily broken.

The Dewey who had been broken had died long ago.

The normal transmigrator had never even made it out of Azkaban.

He had remained in Azkaban forever, or perhaps he had died on the boat heading there.

Dewey carefully examined himself in the mirror and revealed a plain, unremarkable smile. He checked the potion, checked his hair, and once satisfied, opened his suitcase.

He stepped inside, half his body disappearing into the case. Inside was a vast space. Descending the ladder, he first reached the area filled with teaching equipment, which seemed perfectly fine.

Moving a certain table revealed a passage, and behind the curtain next to this passage was Lupin.

Lupin watched the man who looked exactly like him in silence, unable to even utter a word of reproach.

He had been fed many potions—he was weak and unable to use magic. The ropes on his body were tied tightly to ensure he couldn't break free, and Sirius had cast spells over the entire curtain so that even if Lupin screamed, no one would hear him.

On his own, he couldn't escape this place.

Lupin knew very well that even the chair he sat on had been enchanted.

Dewey trimmed some more of Lupin's hair and fed him a potion to ensure he was nourished without needing to excrete—a miraculous potion, wasn't it?

In the magical world, anything was possible.

In Hogsmeade, there were even potions for sale that made one's sweat and waste smell like perfume; it was said to be a bestseller.

Lupin watched Dewey, who was preparing to leave, and said softly but firmly, "You are lying to him."

Dewey stopped.

He turned his head and glanced at the time on his watch—two hours until class. He pulled over a chair, sat down in front of Lupin, leaned forward, and rested his weight on his elbows, which pressed into his thighs.

He hung his head, fingers interlaced in front of his face, as if in confession.

"Why do you say that, Professor Lupin? I told you, the Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm back then wasn't Black. Once Peter Pettigrew is caught, he will be proven innocent and will clear his own name. Where did I lie?"

He lowered his voice and asked curiously.

"Yes, everything you say is quite possible."

Lupin said weakly, pausing to catch his breath between sentences. He was drained, but his mind was clear. He spoke slowly, "I am not talking about that; you know what I mean.

I am saying that you didn't just deceive him regarding the capture of Peter Pettigrew.

You deceived him about something else. Even if he is proven innocent, he will be thrown back into Azkaban."

Dewey suddenly raised his head, humming a tune, and after shifting his posture, pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket.

He ate the chocolate, ignoring Lupin.

Lupin didn't mind Dewey's attitude and continued to explain softly, "If you hadn't attacked the Weasley family and the Hit Wizards, then catching Peter Pettigrew and gaining Dumbledore's trust—with him acting as a guarantor—might indeed have earned Sirius his freedom. But now, not only have you attacked Ministry Hit Wizards, more importantly, you have harmed Ministry officials.

That is a grave crime.

How did Sirius end up in Azkaban back then? He didn't have a trial; he was caught and thrown straight into Azkaban.

That was already a violation of the rules.

Everyone knows this; it was a violation. Black's very existence is a crime!"

So!

Even if Sirius Black proved his innocence, he would be sent back to Azkaban for attacking Ministry of Magic officials. Do you understand?

Black's very existence is a stain on history!

Back then, sending Sirius Black to prison without a trial was a decision made by the entire Ministry of Magic. Do you understand? Both the old guard who wanted to leave and the newly appointed officials were desperate to bury every trace and piece of news regarding the Dark Lord. Stubborn Death Eaters and a few innocent souls were tossed into prison, never to be heard from again.

The Pure-blood Families and Death Eaters who finally managed to clear their names would never allow a settled case to be reopened.

Everything is fated!

Even if someone knows others are innocent, it is useless. The Ministry of Magic will never admit its mistakes; they will only ensure those mistakes remain hidden!

The Ministry will only choose to bury the error, unless someone is willing to stand up for Sirius. Now, after you attacked the Ministry's people, even that path of retreat is gone!"

By the time Lupin finished, his limp body seemed to find a sliver of strength. He struggled, the ropes pulling taut, and glared at Dewey, roaring powerlessly: "So, you are lying to him. You cannot prove his innocence at all, because he has already committed a crime.

Do you understand? You are a liar!"

Dewey watched the agitated Lupin and giggled, clutching his stomach until tears welled in his eyes. Lupin wasn't sure if Dewey had actually understood a word he said, because right now, Dewey looked like a madman.

After finishing his chocolate, Dewey began to chew on his index finger nail earnestly, head slightly bowed, legs crossed as he peeked at Lupin.

Lupin suddenly deflated.

He felt as though all this information was falling on deaf ears; it had no effect at all.

"Are you finished?"

After staring at Lupin for half an hour, Dewey asked with a silly grin. Lupin didn't speak again. Dewey transformed; his expression suddenly became serious and solemn, firm yet gentle. These contradictory feelings appeared on Dewey, yet they felt perfectly natural.

Lupin felt a chill run down his spine.

He felt as if he were looking into a mirror.

Every one of Dewey's movements was exactly like his own.

"Professor Lupin," Dewey looked at him and offered a smile—if Lupin were looking in a mirror, he would see that Dewey's smile was identical to his own—"if you are finished, I must leave to teach my students.

I will come to see you again, alright?

You don't need to worry about so many problems; I will resolve them for you.

Remember to tell me this much next time; your perspective is very useful for my understanding of this world."

He turned and left, leaving Lupin stunned in place.

For a moment, he couldn't tell which Dewey was the real one.

Dewey locked the trunk and placed it in the most conspicuous spot in the room, leaving it there quite brazenly. He locked the door and went to the Great Hall for breakfast. Today was his first day of teaching, and if he remembered correctly, he had to teach the second-year students from two houses this morning.

There were classes in the afternoon as well.

None of the teachers at Hogwarts were idle; they had to teach every single day. While they lacked the pressure of publishing papers or conducting research, they were no less busy than other professors, as the teaching workload itself was quite heavy.

He saw Snape in the Great Hall. Snape did not look at him. When Snape finished his breakfast and left, Professor Severus's lips parted slightly, and Dewey heard his gloomy voice.

"Teach well. I'll be watching you make a fool of yourself."

Dewey showed no reaction to this. He finished his breakfast and prepared to head to class.

He had already formed a teaching plan on his way here.

When it came to hoodwinking people, he was a professional.

For the first and second years, he prepared "Understanding Dark Magic" for these young wizards.

For the third and fourth years, he prepared "Knowing Dark Magic" and "Countering Dark Magic" for these young wizards who would one day fight against Death Eaters.

For the fifth years, it was "Everything makes way for the O.W.L.s; learning how to handle exams."

For the sixth-year students, it was "Laying the foundation for the N.E.W.T.s."

For the seventh-year students, it was "Specialized N.E.W.T.s training."

With things divided this way, Dewey felt instantly relaxed. He finished his breakfast, wiped his mouth, and left the Great Hall.

A new day had begun.

"Let me see, Monday morning... second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws... hmm, where are they waiting for me?"

Dewey left the area with ease. If his Marauder's Map was correct, this path led directly to the classroom. Once he arrived, he could wait quietly for the students to enter.

"Interesting."

He said to himself, picked up his wand, pulled out a book, and placed it alongside the wand in front of him.